Past Imperfect
by Aggie Escott
Summary: X-Files type story not x over The team investigate disappearences in Salem, Massachusetts. Please R&R for me. Thank-you
1. The Cliff Path

Past Imperfect

Chapter 1

The Cliff Path

_**Fox Mulder said, "Sometimes the only sane answer for a insane word is insanity."**_

"Three disappearances, all in the same place, the same time of day. " said Rossi. "Between 2.30 and 3pm. We can't be more accurate, since there were no witnesses."

Spencer flicked through the files. "Victimology is vague." He said. "There's no obvious connection." He ran through the list.

"First one, female aged 27, disappeared while walking her dog, two weeks ago." He looked up from the file. "Did her dog turn up?"

"No." said Rossi. "No sign of the dog.

"Second and third ones, male aged 53, and his wife, aged 50, walking on the headland." read Aaron from his copy. "That was one week ago. The police could find no connection. They appear to be random."

"And there was no blood or any disturbance at the scenes. The coast guards checked the scene. No bodies were recovered." Prentiss added.

"So how can we be sure that these really are disappearances?" asked Spencer. "Could they have simply gone away?"

"That was the original thought of the police, but a couple of things make this suspicious." said JJ, checking her notes. "The couple who disappeared, Mr and Mrs Havers, were in the area to attend their daughter's wedding on Saturday. They were in favour of the marriage, and were looking forward to it, according to the daughter. They liked to walk along the Cape Cod headland when they visited."

"And the other thing?" asked Prentiss.

"There have been disappearances of livestock." said Aaron. "A farmer uses the headland for grazing. He has lost thirteen sheep over the last month. He thought it was poachers at first." He started to give out assignments. "We'll be landing in fifteen minutes. Rossi and Prentiss, I'd like you to make contact with the families. JJ, the police HQ, and find out how much has been released to the media. Morgan and Reid, we will go and visit the farmer, and check out the headland, get a feel for the area."

They were met from the plane by the detective in charge of the investigation. Aaron introduced his team, and turned down the offer of a rest at the hotel.

"It would be better to get started straight away" said Aaron. "Agent Jareau will accompany you back to your HQ, and set up. We will need two cars at our disposal."

"That's fine, if you all come back with me, I will organise cars for you."

They all climbed into the SUV for the short trip back to Salem PD.

JJ got straight onto organising an office for the team.

"We'll meet back here in two hours, and see if we can get a profile together." Said Aaron

Rossi and Prentiss took a car to go and see Melanie Havers. Hotch, Reid and Morgan set off for the headland.

Melanie Havers showed Rossi and Prentiss through to a small comfortable sitting room. She sat on a chair facing a couch where Emily sat. Rossi remained standing, watching and listening.

Melanie was red eyed from crying. "They wouldn't just leave," she sobbed."They were looking forward to the wedding. I know something has happened to them."

Emily reached across and put her hand over Melanie's. "We will find out what has happened, Melanie."

"Should we go ahead with the wedding?" she asked. "I never imagined my wedding without Mum and Dad." She took a tissue from the box and wiped her eyes again. She looked at Emily. "What should I do?"

"Melanie, I can't tell you what to do." said Emily. "I can't begin to imagine what you are going through. All we can say is, we will do everything we can to find them."

They stood up, ready to go. Rossi gave her his card. "Just in case you need to contact us for anything, just call."

She took the card. "Thank you." And saw them to the door.

On the way back, Emily said, "She doesn't know anything."

"I think you're right." Rossi agreed. "And I'm pretty sure they didn't just leave. There's more to this. There's been no ransom demand in either case."

"So the UnSub has a different agenda." agreed Emily. "Let's hope the others find out more than we have."

"We'll walk the cliff before we visit Mr. Stewart." said Hotch. "Get a feel for the 'crime scene'."

The wind was strong and the sun bright as the three Agents set off to walk the path along the cliff edge. The wind was blowing inland from the sea, and although the sun was high, it was cold walk. There was no shelter.

"We don't actually know where the three disappeared." Reid said. "It could be anywhere along here."

"Just keep looking for anything out of the ordinary." said Hotch. "Signs of a struggle, trampled vegetation off the path, anything."

Reid and Morgan were checking the edges of the path. So far they had seen nothing sinister.

"Have you noticed how clean this area is?" Reid said.

"No litter?" Morgan stopped and looked around.

"No litter, no leaves, no broken twigs..."

"Hmm...Almost as if it's been vacuumed!" Morgan bent down to inspect the ground. He brushed his hand across the stony pathway."Nothing loose at all. How odd!"

"Morgan! Reid! What do you make of that?"

Aaron was pointing out to sea. A patch of water about a hundred meters out looked different to the rest of the surface of the sea. The water seemed to be 'jumping' in little peaks. Reid and Morgan stood beside Hotch, and watched.

"What is it?" Morgan said.

"It's moving." said Reid. "It's moving towards land."

"Is there something in the water?" Morgan screwed up his eyes to block out the glare of the sun on the water.

"We'll find out very soon." said Hotch. "Whatever it is, it's coming ashore."

The three men watched as the strange disturbance moved closer to the beach. When it did, they expected to see something come out onto the sand. But nothing did.

"So what was it?" Reid frowned.

As they watched, the air over the sand where the thing had beached started wavering, as if it was heating up. They watched as the patch of air moved across the sand and up the dunes, mesmerised by the strange phenomenon.

As Aaron watched, realisation hit him.

"Run!"

Suddenly Hotch pushed Reid and Morgan ahead of him back up the path. "Quickly!"

Morgan ran along the path, with Reid behind him, Hotch a few paces behind Reid. The wind grew suddenly stronger, and leaves and twigs rushed past them. A sound like a howling gale came from behind them. Reid heard Aaron cry out. He stopped and looked back for him.

Hotch was on his knees, clinging onto a tree, his arms wrapped around it.

"Morgan!" Reid yelled. "Morgan, we need to help Aaron!"

The two men turned back, Reid reached Aaron first.

Aaron was being pulled towards whatever it was, slowly his grip on the tree was being loosened. Reid curled his arm around the tree, and gripped Aaron's wrist. He felt Morgan behind him, putting an arm around Reid's waist.

Spencer held tight onto Aaron's wrist, and he was finally pulled away from the tree. Reid looked into Aaron's eyes, and saw fear there.

The sound of rushing wind tore the words away from Aaron's lips, but Spencer knew what he was saying...

"...I love you..."

...as Aaron's wrist was wrenched from Spencer's grasp, and he was pulled into the swirling eddy.


	2. Loss

Chapter 2

Loss

_**Hurley said, **__**"Look, I don't know about you, but things have really sucked for me lately, and I could really use a victory. So let's get one, dude! Let's look Death in the face and say, 'Whatever, man!'"**_

Reid was on his knees on the grass, one hand reaching out towards where he had last seen Aaron. His eyes were wide mouth open with shock. Morgan knelt beside him, his arm still around Reid's waist. Neither spoke as leaves and debris rained down on them.

As the turmoil settled, Reid was the first to speak.

"Aaron?" He ran forward. He stood shouting for Aaron into the air. He felt Morgan's hand on his shoulder. Reid turned to him.

"What just happened?" his voice was low and shaking. "Where is he?"

Morgan looked around. "The land here is flat, there's no shelter. If he was here, we'd see him." He clenched his fists. "What the hell's going on?"

Reid went to the top of the dune and looked towards the beach. "Where'd he go? He's not anywhere! There's no where to search! A cyclone would have dropped him somewhere! Where is he?"

"I don't know, Kid. But he's not here." He turned Reid to face him. "We'd best get back. See if the others found anything."

"I can't leave!" Reid said, looking scared. "I can't..."

Morgan took Spencer's hands. "Come back with me. We'll get Garcia to look at Homeland Security. Something's going on here."

"But..."

Reid allowed Morgan to lead him back along the path, looking back the whole time.

_Aaron, where are you__? What happened to you? Aaron..._

Morgan put his arm across Reid's shoulder, drawing him on.

"Where ever he is, Kid, we'll find him." Morgan said softly. "I promise."

It was horrible driving back to the PD without Hotch. Neither spoke, both lost in their own thoughts. When they entered the office that JJ had prepared, Rossi looked up.

"Aaron gone to follow up a lead?"

Morgan and Reid sat down at the large table that JJ had set up in the centre of the room. Reid put a hand over his mouth, trying to keep in control. He glanced at Morgan.

_Can you take this? I don't know if I could be coherent at the moment._

Morgan tried to explain what had happened, although he was finding it difficult not to get annoyed at the incredulous looks of his colleagues.

"He just vanished?" Prentiss said with a frown.

"No, not exactly. He was ...erm...pulled away."

Reid decided to speak, although his voice was shaky. "I was hanging on to him, but he was pulled out of my grasp, into a kind of vortex. We didn't see him again."

"I'm going to get Garcia to hack Homeland Security." Morgan said. "This has got to be something they're doing."

"An experiment you mean?" Rossi leaned forward on his seat. "Military defence?"

"Could be." answered Morgan "If so, they should have some answers." He reached over to the laptop, and contacted Garcia.

"Baby Girl, I need you to do something very illegal for me!"

Morgan saw a smile spread over her face, but she refrained from saying what she was thinking, with Rossi listening in. So she said, "Anything for you, my Prince!"

"I need you to hack Homeland Security, and find out if there are any experimental operations going on off the coast of Massachusetts." Morgan watched her face to see a reaction, but as usual, she took it in her stride.

"Might take a while, but I'll get right on it. Call you back." They watched as she hit 'disconnect', and the screen went blank.

Morgan looked across at Reid. His eyes were glazed over. He didn't look well.

"Reid and I will go back and visit the farmer, Mr Stewart." said Morgan. "He may have seen something."

He got up and tilted his head towards the door.

_Come on, Reid..._

He left the room Reid followed.

Reid's mind was in a turmoil. He wanted to be doing something, anything to keep his mind moving. But it wouldn't move. It was stuck in a loop. Over and over, Aaron's hand slipping from his...his frightened eyes... his last words...

_No! Not last words! Oh no please, not his last words..._

He sat in the car next to Morgan, staring down at his hands. Before starting up, Morgan turned to talk to Reid.

"Are you alright working this, Reid?" He looked up into Morgan's worried face. "You could take leave, you don't seem right." He put a comforting hand on Reid's arm. "I understand this is difficult for you, but we need you on the case. Fully on the case I mean. If we are going to find Hotch, we need you functioning at full capacity. If you can't do that, Kiddo, you need to step down."

"I'm ok, Morgan." Reid said. "Yeah, I wasn't quite with it back there, but I'm ok now." He looked at Morgan, his eyes determined. "I won't let you down. Or Aaron."

Morgan smiled at Reid's fortitude. He was sure that he would stay strong now. He gave Reid's arm a little squeeze, and started the engine.

Mr Stewart was an ancient man who looked about two hundred years old. His family had been grazing sheep on the land for five generations. As a child, he used to spend days sleeping out on the dunes, watching the sheep and playing.

He was unnerved by what had been happening though.

"It's always been safe and quiet on the dunes." He said. "But now, I would be afraid to go out there. My sheep are all in now. Until this is sorted, they are staying in."

"What have you seen, Mr Stewart?" asked Reid.

"Usually, nothing." He stopped.

"But..." Morgan prompted

The old man looked wary. "Ok.Sometimes, I see strange things out to sea. Almost as if the water is being sucked. Then I've seen it on land a couple of times."

"Can you describe it to us, Sir?" Morgan asked.

"It's kind of like a whirlpool, but on its side." Stewart frowned. "I've seen twisters, but only one's pointing upwards, dragging things into the air. Never a sideways one." He looked at the two men sitting in his little kitchen. "You think I'm just a crazy old man, don't you?"

"Definitely not, Mr Stewart." said Reid. "You see, we've seen it too."

Stewart's face relaxed for the first time since they'd arrived. "I thought you people would think I'd lost it." He said. "Like I'd said I'd seen a flying saucer or something. That's why I didn't tell anyone."

"When did you first see this, Mr Stewart?" Morgan asked.

"About a month ago, round about the time when I first started to lose my sheep." He frowned. "Are they connected?"

"We can't be certain at this stage," said Reid, "But it's beginning to look that way."

Morgan handed the old farmer one of his cards."If you remember anything else, Sir, please give us a call."

The two agents made ready to leave, and Mr Stewart stood, to show them out. He shook their hands at the door.

"You've made an old man very happy today. I was a bit worried that I was seeing things." He smiled an old man's smile, and waited at the door until Reid and Morgan got into the car and drove off.

As they rounded the coast, Morgan's mobile rang. He handed it to Reid to answer. He put it on speaker.

"Hey boys, I've found something really interesting." Garcia said. Both men could hear the barely suppressed excitement in her voice. "Are you on your way back? 'Cos it's not something I could talk about on the phone!"

"We'll be back in about fifteen. Great stuff, Princess!"

Reid closed the phone. "That sounds promising." he said, hoping it would take them a step closer to finding Aaron.

Not for a moment did he think that they wouldn't find him, or that he had died. He had to go on believing, or he wouldn't be able to function.

_We're going to find you, Aaron. Where ever you are, we will not give up until you are back with us!_


	3. The Cell

Chapter 3

The Cell

_**Ray Thomas wrote, "Travelling Eternity Road, what will you find there****" (Eternity Road**_

Aaron vaguely remembered Spencer's hand gripping his, and how it slipped from his grasp. He remembered Spencer's scared eyes.

Then nothing until now, lying on his back on what looked like a dry rutted mud road.

His back hurt where he had landed. His shirt and jacket were rucked up, and the skin of his back scraped raw when he had skidded. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, and straight away wished he hadn't. His head was spinning, and he felt thoroughly sick. He turned onto his hands and knees and threw up, then promptly lay back down again.

"Morgan! Spence!"

There was no answer, but then he didn't really expect one. Where ever he was, it wasn't on the headland of Cape Cod. He just lay still, waiting for his body to recover from whatever it was.

Aaron felt a vibration in the ground. If he had understood the meaning of it, he would have moved and hidden himself. As it was, he had no understanding of what was happening, so he turned onto his front and tried to stand.

Four men rode their horses around the bend in the road, and stopped, staring at Aaron. He struggled to his feet and extended his hand.

"Hello, my name is Aaron Hotchner, FBI. Please would you..."

He got no further, as the four circled him, one of the men shouted, "Magistrate, It's another!"

Aaron raised his hands above his head to protect himself, as blows rained down upon him. He crouched to the ground, trying to understand what was going on. He attempted to crawl away between the horses, but the move was anticipated, and he rolled back into the centre of the circle. He unholstered his gun and fired into the air. For just a second, the assault lessened, but a shout of,

"It's the Devil's work!" and the attack came again in full force.

A club hit his wrist and he thought he heard bones crack. The gun fell from his hand and he cried out in pain

Aaron fell down onto his knees, arms above his head, trying to protect himself as the four men beat him with clubs. He collapsed, dazed, onto the ground. As he lay there, he felt his hands tied in front of him. He yelped in agony as his broken wrist was pulled, and he was hauled to his feet. He stood swaying, helpless, sick and afraid.

"Watch him, Reverend. If he goes spectral, we've lost him!"

A rope was twisted round Aaron's neck, and he was pulled after the leading horse. He desperately tried to remain upright, but after a few steps, he bent forward and fell.

"P-please, stop!" Aaron cried out, choking. But the horses carried on, dragging him along the rutted path. He passed a sign at the side of the road.

_'Welcome to Salem'_

And his head hit a rock in the road and he passed out.

Aaron's senses began to return to him. The first thing he became aware of was the smell. The foul stench of human excrement. He then he could hear a terrible wailing and crying. He blinked open his eyes, and wiped blood from his face. Very carefully, he turned over onto his front, and looked around.

He appeared to be in a cell of some kind, like a dungeon. The people he was sharing with were mostly women, although he could see a few men. Their clothing was filthy, like his own, but the women's skirts were long, and they wore plain bonnets.

Puritan.

The floor was awash with excrement, and it was on his clothes, and to his horror, on his cut skin. He removed his jacket, and tried to clean himself up with the lining, which for the moment seemed fairly clean. His shirt seemed ok, but his trousers were ripped and filthy. The smell was making him gag, and he threw up again, adding to the stinking mess on the floor.

Some of the women were looking at him cautiously. He tried to stand, but he hurt too much from the beating, and being dragged behind the horse. He stayed on his knees, with one good hand on the floor. He felt fairly safe; he didn't think he would vomit again, as long as he didn't move too quickly. He checked his wrist. It was swollen and it crunched when he tried to turn it. He winced in pain as he examined it. There was bleeding where the rope had cut into the skin. And it was his right hand too.

Damn it!

"Hello." He stretched out his hand to the women. He wondered if he would get a friendlier response from these people. He needed to know where he was.

One of the women stepped forward.

"Hello, I am Bridget Bishop." The woman said. "Who are you?"

"I am Aaron Hotchner."

"Aaron. A wonderful strong biblical name. Brother and spokesman for the prophet Moses. Will you be our spokesman, Brother Aaron?"

Could you tell me where I am?"

"This is Salem." She answered. She indicated her fellow captives. "Although most of us are from the Village."

"The Village?"

"Salem Village." said Bridget. "You don't know why you're here, do you?"

Aaron shook his head, then wished he hadn't. A wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm him again.

"No, I don't. Maybe you could tell me."

"We are accused of the blasphemy of witchcraft, false accusations all." She looked into Aaron's eyes. "Are you a witch?"

But Aaron didn't hear her. The name – Bridget Bishop; Salem Village; witchcraft...

_Oh god! No! It couldn't be..._

"Bridget, this might sound like a foolish question," Aaron said, his voice trembling, hoping he was wrong. "What year is this?"

"Yes, such a foolish question! It's the year of Our Lord sixteen ninety two." She looked at him quizzically. "You surely are a strange man, Aaron." She backed away from him. "It could be that you are a witch, when all of us are innocent!"

She backed away from him and rejoined her fellows, all the time keeping a wary eye on him. Aaron knelt in the centre of the dungeon, pale with shock.

This had to be some kind of elaborate trick! But who would play such a game with him? To what end? It all looked very real.

He had to think. His head and body ached, and some of his wounds were sure to be infected. He could hardly remember what day it was, let alone think.

He saw that his fellow prisoners had moved as far away from him as they could get. He shivered with fear.

He climbed slowly to his feet and went to the cell door and shook it. He didn't expect it to be unlocked, but he needed a drink, and he needed to make some kind of contact with whoever had set this up. He banged on the door.

"Hey! Open up! I want to see who you are!"

The door opened slowly, Aaron stepped forward.

"I wish to..."

A fist landed in his face, and he fell back into the filth on the floor. He broke his fall with his hands and screamed in pain as his right hand splashed into the muck, sending shots of agony up his arm. He rolled onto his front and onto his hands and knees. Blood dripped fron his nose, and his lip was split and bleeding. He could taste blood in his mouth where his teeth had punctured inside his mouth. He spat blood onto the floor. He wanted to put his hand to his face, but the filth on his hands stopped him. He heard Bridget cry out.

"He's a witch! He called down evil! We are innocent, but he is not. Please, get him away from us!"

The women started to scream and wail. He shrieked in pain as he was dragged to his feet. A fist to the solar plexus doubled him up, followed by a punch in the jaw. Somebody caught hold of his wrists, and he cried out in agony as he was dragged from the room.

_**Bridget Bishop**** said, ****"I am no witch.****I am innocent.****I know nothing of it." **_


	4. 1692

Chapter 4

1692

_**Theda**__** Kenyon wrote, '**__**The blackest chapter in the history of Witchcraft lies not in the malevolence of Witches but in the deliberate, gloating cruelty of their prosecutors.**__**'**_

They team were sitting round the table back at Salem PD, Garcia on the laptop at the end of the table.

"Before you give us anything, Garcia," Rossi said, "check that you are on scramble?"

"Yes, I am. Safe to talk now."

"Ok, go ahead, what did you find?"

"Homeland Security has been carrying out experiments in matter transfer in the North Atlantic, by using wormhole technology derived from the Hubble Spacecraft and other unspecified sources." Garcia said, "But the experiments keep going wrong."

"How going wrong?" asked Morgan. "What happened?"

"The first thing that happened is the wormholes transferred matter, but it moved things through time, and not space. Then they lost control of the opening. It was supposed to stay out to sea, and away from shipping lanes. But it kept moving inland, and they lost control on several occasions."

"Through time?" Reid said. "Are you saying that Aaron could have moved through time?"

"Possiibly."

"Time travel?..." Morgan was staggered.

Prentiss and JJ didn't trust themselves to say anything.

Rossi was the only one able to speak coherently. He asked, "Do we know when and where?"

"It seems that instead of space, it's time. So it will be the same place."

"When?" repeated Rossi. "Tell us when."

"Three hundred and sixteen years ago."

The team sat stunned.

"Sixteen ninety two." Reid broke the silence, falling into his safe 'encyclopædia' mode. "The Salem Witch trials. There were fourteen women and five men hanged for witchcraft, one man crushed to death for refusing to enter a plea."

"If Hotch is there, he needs help." Morgan said. "That wasn't a good time to be a stranger."

Rossi was at a computer terminal. "What were those stats again, Reid?"

"Fourteen women, five men hanged, one man crushed to death. It was a common, and terrible form of torture that they used with impunity back then."

"I think you had better come and look at this." Rossi looked very worried. The others crowded round and looked at the screen.

It now said two men crushed, with a list appending.

Giles Corey

Aaron Hotchner

_Oh my god!_

"Is there anything on the Homeland security site about getting things back that have gone through?" Rossi, ever cool, asked Garcia.

"No, Sir, but they believe that the wormhole is two way, although nothing yet has been retrieved."

"And how often does this wormhole open up?" Rossi again.

"It takes a week to reset the machine, so it will be a week before we can send anyone on a rescue mission."

"And if someone goes back in a week, will it be a week later in sixteen ninety two?" asked Morgan, finally able to articulate.

"No. It seems that the end point is fixed within a few hours." Garcia said.

"A week?" Reid said. "I've got to wait a week?"

"That week will give us time to do some research." said Morgan. "We need as much detail as possible on the trials." He glanced at Reid. "Anything you have read will be out of date now. Hotch has changed history."

"And, Garcia, see if you can find any information as to why that particular year." Said Rossi. "It seems a bit of a coincidence that the wormhole should gravitate to the most notorious time in Massachusetts' history."

"Unless..."! Reid said slowly, eyes staring at nothing."

"Unless what, Genius?"

"Unless the year was random, and the wormhole somehow triggered the hysteria of the witch trials."

"Strong possibility, Reid." said Rossi. "Share your thoughts with Garcia, and let's get some answers. We have six days. Morgan, would you work with Reid and Garcia, Prentiss and Jareau, please, search the history of Salem in sixteen ninety two, and see if there is any trace of the other missing people."

Reid and Morgan flew back to Quantico that evening, so they could use the FBI resources. Garcia was still there. She often slept at the office, and especially when one of their own was missing. Reid and Morgan hurried to her bunker as soon as they arrived.

"Well, hello! If it isn't The Genius G-Man and Price Charming!" Garcia's words were chirpy, but her eyes showed real concern for her missing boss. Morgan sat down beside her; Reid went off to make some coffee. They had seven long nights ahead.

Aaron was close to passing out. His captors delighted in twisting his broken wrist and the grinding bone ends made him scream. He was on his knees in front of his tormentors, one of whom was pressing his hand backwards against his arm. Aaron had tears of pain on his face, along with blood and filth from the cell. He bent back trying to relieve the pressure on his hand, as the tormentor jerked at his wrist, and however much he tried, he couldn't prevent his outcries of agony.

"What do you ...want from me?" Aaron gasped, "Please...s-stop and let me..." His pleas were cut off as the tormentor twisted his hand, and Aaron fell onto his side.

"Confess, witch!"

"But I'm not..." A kick in the small of his back from a man in a cleric's collar again stopped any speaking. Aaron whimpered and rolled onto his back. The tormentor let go of his wrist, and Aaron cradled it in his other hand. He looked up and noticed that one of the men was examining his guns. He noticed with relief that the safety catches were on. He didn't have long to contemplate that when a foot kicked his groin. He groaned in agony and curled up.

"Confess, witch. Where did you come from? Were you on a spectral visit? Who did you visit? What are you intentions?"

Aaron rolled onto his front and attempted to stand. "I don't know what you are talking about. Please, let me..." Again he wasn't allowed to finish. A kick to the stomach, and he fell sideways then onto his back. He held his hands up in front of him.

"Please, I have got nothing to do with this. Please let me go!"

"Evil creature, even the witches condemn you! You will be tried and hung for your blasphemy!" The tormentor was becoming hysterical. He kicked Aaron's broken wrist again, and Aaron turned onto his side, facing away from the men in judgement over him. He cradled his wrist once more, trying to support it, alleviate the shooting pains along his arm.

"How do these work?" one of them said, holding up his guns. "What kind of weapons are these?"

"I d-don't know." Aaron said.

"They were taken from you, and you don't know the workings of them. You are a liar, witch." He pulled Aaron to his feet by his shirt front and tie.

"You will be tried. How do you plead"

"I refuse to p-plead. I have n-not been accused of a c-crime, I cannot b-be tried." Aaron tried to keep his voice steady, but he was weakened, and his resolve was faltering. The man let him go and he fell back to the floor.

Furiously, the man in the cleric collar stepped forward and tore his shirt off him, and removed his shoes and socks.

"Throw him back with the women. Let them deal with him!"

Aaron was dragged between two men by his arms; his head hung forward, dripping blood, his bare feet dragging behind. He vaguely felt streams of blood running down his bacs and a trickle out of his ear. He knew that if infection didn't kill him, then the beatings likely would.

The cell door was opened, and Aaron was thrown in. He was too weak to save himself, and he landed on his front in the muck on the floor. He was dazed and unable to think. He turned onto his back and wiped his face with his hand. Breathing heavily, trying to control the pain ripping into him, he didn't try to stand; he just lay there in the dirt, waiting for whatever was coming next.

"He's yours, now."

As the door closed, the women surrounded him.

"You bring false accusations upon us by your witchery!" Bridget shrieked. "You will be punished! In this life, and the next!"

He tried in vain to protect himself, but the assault was vicious, from women saving their own skins at the expense of his. They began to punch and kick Aaron as he lay on the filthy floor.

He cried out for them to stop, to listen to him. Tears fell, as they attacked him, their own terrible fear giving them strength. He was soon overcome, and slipped into blessed darkness.

_**William Shakespeare wrote, 'What a hell of witchcraft **__**lies**__** in the small orb of one particular tear.**__**'**_


	5. Giles Corey

Chapter 5

Giles Corey

_**Innocence is the weakest defenc**__**e. Innocence has a single voice that can only say over and over again, "I didn't do it." Guilt has a thousand voices, all of them lies.**__** - **__**Leonard F Peltier**_

Slowly, Aaron began to feel pain. He was surprised that he could feel anything. He was sure that he was going to be killed. But instead, he felt gentle hands on him, and his head off the floor, on somebody's lap.

"Spence?" he croaked. "Spencey, is that you?"

"I'm Giles. Giles Corey. I'm sorry I couldn't help you before. The women wouldn't let me get close." The man with the gentle hands said. "It wasn't until they thought they had killed you that they let me get you out."

Aaron forced his eyes open a crack. They were swollen and bloodied, but he managed to get a look at the man. He remembered seeing him in the crowd of prisoners when he first arrived.

"Thank you."

He was lying on the floor, his head in Giles's lap. Giles was leaning against the wall, gently rubbing his hands up and down Aaron's arms.

"I hope you don't mind me doing this." He said. "It gets very cold in here at night. I need to warm you."

Aaron made an effort to sit, but he groaned and his eyes closed as the pain throughout his body threatened to rob him of consciousness again.

"Lie still. It's Aaron, isn't it?" Aaron managed a small nod. "Don't move, just rest. You are going to need your strength."

Aaron shakily reached for Giles's hand, and held on to it. Giles smiled.

"I heard them say you refused to plead. Is that right?"

"Yeah." Aaron breathed the word.

"Do you realise what that means?" Aaron shook his head. "It means death by the press. But at least you won't die as a witch. It will save your family the shame."

_I have no family!_

"The press?" It wasn't really a question. Aaron knew very well what the press was. He wondered briefly if there would be rescue this time. Probably not. How would they find him? A freak of nature, he could be anywhere.

Aaron lay still on the strangers lap for a while. The women and a few men were at the other side of the cell, watching closely. They were clearly afraid of him, but it seemed as if they would not attack him for the moment.

As it got darker, it got cold. Aaron began to shiver. He couldn't feel his feet, submerged in the wet muck on the floor. His body was cold, and he wrapped his injured arm over his chest to keep warm.

"Let me help you sit up, Aaron. Then we can share each other's warmth."

Aaron allowed the man to pull him up so that he was sitting next to him. He cried out in pain as his lacerated back contacted the rough wall. Blood and dirt had dried in his hair and on his face, but the rest of his body was wet and very cold. Giles wrapped his arms carefully around Aaron and Aaron put his uninjured arm around Giles. After a while, he felt Giles relax and he wondered how he could possibly sleep. Aaron closed his eyes and thought of Spencer.

_Where ever you are, Spence, I'm thinking of you__...please don't attempt to come for me. __It's too dangerous. Please don't put yourself in danger..._

Aaron leaned on Giles and imagined he was next to Spence. He put the pain and fear out of his mind and enjoyed his dream. He imagined running his fingers through Spencer's lovely soft hair. He imagined his wide hazel eyes, and the gentle curve of his lips. He imagined the taste of his kisses, and the scent of his body. The dream began to hurt as he realised that he would not ever experience these beautiful things again, and as he slept and dreamed of his lover, tears welled in his eyes, and washed little streams through the dirt and blood on his face.

"Aaron, wake up!"

Aaron heard the voice through the fog of pain. He reached out wildly towards it.

"Spence! Here I am, Sweetheart! I'm here"

"Aaron, it's me, Giles."

Aaron woke to find himself back in the filthy cell. He remembered. Spence was safe.

"Giles." Aaron whispered. "I'm sorry."

"Who's Spence?"

Aaron pictured him in his mind's eye. "Spence is a very good friend, to whom I owe my life many times over."

"So where is he now? Ran away no doubt!"

"Spence wouldn't leave me." Aaron felt tears again. How could he explain that Spencer wouldn't be born for almost three hundred years? "He doesn't know where I am. I don't want him to find me and put himself in danger."

"They will probably come for you again today, to try and make you plead so they can try and execute you." said Giles. "Keep strong, Aaron. Do not allow them to defeat you."

"Giles, I need to drink. Do we get water?" Aaron's tongue felt thick and sticky in his mouth.

"Water is poured into the trough around sometime in the morning." he answered, pointing to a filthy wooden trough just inside the door.

Aaron tried to move his head to look where Giles was pointing, but it hurt too much.

"When will they come?" Aaron doubted that he would survive another day like yesterday. For the first time in his life, he wanted to die quickly. "I don't think I will be coming back again."

"Oh you will, Aaron." Giles said. "You can be sure they won't kill you, when they have planned a pressing for you."

Aaron felt a wave of sickness wash over him. He turned his head to the side, and vomited. He heard it splash onto the floor, flecks of dirt splashing onto his skin. He felt broken ribs tear at flesh as he heaved on an empty stomach, pulling open infected and suppurating wounds on his back. The pain was making him cry, tears running again down his cheeks, his beaten and broken body racked with sobs. He tried so hard to pull himself together. He was an FBI Special Agent. He shouldn't get in this state.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, closed his eyes and concentrated on self control. Using the wall as support, he tried to pull himself up to stand. Whatever was going to happen today, he determined to retain his dignity. He wanted to stand up, but he couldn't. So he leaned on the wall, head up, and waited.

He didn't have to wait for long. The door opened, and four men armed with clubs came into the cell. They pulled Aaron off the wall, and onto his feet. Straight away, his knees gave way and he fell. They dragged him out of the cell again, and into another room where five men sat on chairs in a semi circle. He was thrown in before them. Aaron tried to stand before them, but with no support, he wasn't able to. He got on his hands and knees, holding his right hand off the floor like an injured dog.

"We are Salem's Magistrates, John Hathorne and Jonathan Corwin, and Reverend Samuel Parris you have already met. These others are Deputy Governor Thomas Danforth, and Captain Samuel Sewall, church members of fine standing. Today is your last chance to enter a plea."

Aaron looked up at the men. "I do not plea. There is no charge to answer."

Two men entered the room at the beckon of the Reverend. A small nod from him, and the beating would begin again.

"We are trying to save your immortal soul from damnation, Aaron Hotchner. If you will not confess, or enter a plea, you will be pressed until you do."

No weapons were used against Aaron on that second day, just fists and boots.

"Look at your only hope, witch.!" He was pulled upright, and his head pulled back so that he was looking at his judges. "These men are mercifully allowing you a chance."

"Do you plead?"

"No." His voice was almost inaudible, but it was enough. The first blow was a punch to the face. His head jerked back, but he was held up. The second was to the front of his neck, and his captors let him go. He crashed to the floor and didn't move as he tried to breathe through his damaged throat. His breaths came in agonised gasps, gagging and choking.

"Do you plead?"

Without the strength to answer, the beating started again.


	6. Cause and Effect

Chapter 6

Cause and Effect

**_Dr. Redfield said, "Just think of your mind as a movie, you can pause, rewind or slow down any details you want." (The Butterfly Effect)_**

Spencer and Derek were sleeping the lounge, Garcia had promised to join them but she didn't want to leave her computers. She didn't need much sleep when she was hyped up like this. She knew that when it was over she would likely sleep for a couple of days solid.

She had been looking up transcripts and eye witness reports of the trials. There was a lot of mention of Hotch, and the other man, Corey, who had refused to plea, and so were tortured by the press, to try to force them to plea. The two men had died during the torture.

It was difficult to come to terms with the knowledge that this had already happened. Hotch had died over three hundred years ago. He wasn't suffering now, but it felt as if he was.

Hotch had changed history. But if it had been changed once, it could be changed again.

A new report came up on her screen. As she read through it, she felt a sickening knot in her stomach. She turned away with tear filled eyes.

_Oh my god...oh no, Hotch..._

She ran out of the bunker, wiping her eyes. Looking through the lounge door, she saw Derek and Spencer asleep on two of the couches. There was no one else there, two thirty in the morning. She went to Derek.

"Derek, wake up!" She shook him gently, and whispered her words. He opened his eyes.

"Are you..."

"Shh! Don't wake Reid." she said. "I need to show you something."

He quietly got up and followed her out of the lounge. "What is it, Princess?" He touched her tear stained cheek.

"I'm sorry, but I've found something that I need you to see. I don't think I could cope if I was the only one to see it." Morgan saw tears well up and roll down her cheeks. "It's awful!" she sobbed wide eyed and heart broken.

They sat together in front of the screen, and read a description of the death of one of their friends. At the bottom of the page was an artist's impression of Hotch's terrible murder. Derek felt tears in his eyes. He hugged Garcia as she wept onto his shoulder.

Suddenly they heard a cry behind them.

"Aaron! Oh god! Aaron...oh no, please, no!..."

Spencer ran to the screen and put his hands on the image, as if he could change it just by his grief and horror. His tears and horrible cries intensified as he lost control and collapsed onto his knees, hands still on the screen as if he could reach Aaron through time itself.

Derek knelt beside him and offered him his embrace. Reid fell against him, howling in agony, clutching at him. Derek held him, pulling him close, waiting as gradually the cries lessened and soon Reid became silent, apart from the shuddering breaths and trembling body.

"I am so sorry, Kiddo. You weren't meant to see that."

Reid looked at him through red and swollen eyes.

"We have to g-get him back, Morgan. We c-can't leave him t-to that!" Spencer sobbed, "We have to go back s-somehow!"

"We will, Kid. We will." Morgan held him, a hand in his hair, the other on his back. He looked up at the ceiling as tears gathered in his own eyes.

* * *

The following day, the three of them worked on Reid's theory that the wormhole's existence had actually triggered the strange fits and behaviour of the adolescent girls at the centre of the accusations.

Spencer had slowly recovered from his shock of the previous day, with Derek's help and support. And with a resolve that his colleagues were becoming used to, he set to work on the theory.

"Certain types of EM radiation and wave forms trigger aberrant behaviour in some susceptible people, in particular, adolescent girls," he explained. "Unfortunately, we do not have any readings of the residual radiation from the other end of the wormhole."

Garcia had been checking the web site while Spencer was speaking. "Homeland Security are not about to share the knowledge with us, and there's nothing recorded about it in their archives." She said

"But I think it's fair to assume," continued Spencer, "That there would be residuals, and that these could affect people who come in close contact with them."

"So like you said before," Morgan needed to get it straight in his mind. "The date was random, and the wormhole actually caused the hysteria. No wormhole, no Salem Witch Trials."

Reid nodded. "That's what I said, I think."

Morgan gave Reid a tight smile, but said nothing.

* * *

That night, Reid and Morgan caught a plane back to Massachusetts. Reid watched silently out of the window, the words he had seen on Garcia's computer, words that his mind would not allow him to forget, took form and played before his mind's eye like a horrible looped film. Only his obdurate mind had put sound to the images, and Reid was having a hard time dealing with it.

He felt Morgan reach across and take his hand. "It's going to be alright, Kid." He said. "We'll get him back."

Reid looked at Morgan's face, so filled with understanding.

"We have to, Morgan. I won't survive without him." Such a simple statement, so full of depth and meaning

* * *

Aaron's unconscious body was thrown back into the cell that evening. No sound came from him as he rolled through the deepening filth on the floor, and he came to stop on his torn and beaten back, arms flung outwards, head back.

Giles was overcome with empathy. He pulled Aaron over to the corner where he had been sitting all day. Giles had already had his 'hearings' and for whatever reason, the judges had spared him what they were doing to Aaron. Probably, he thought, because Aaron was a stranger, and they had an inherent distrust of strangers.

Giles leaned Aaron's inert form against the wall, and checked him over. It looked as if his arms could be broken. They were bruised and cut, and they weren't lying right. His face was a mess of blood and ripped skin, and his back was torn to pieces. It looked to him as if Aaron had attempted to protect himself by wrapping his arms around his head and exposed his back to his tormentors.

It made Giles weep to see this innocent man who just happened on their village at the wrong time, being put through these agonies.

He drew Aaron across his lap, with Aaron's back to him. He held him carefully around the chest and waist, trying to avoid the wounds and broken bones.

"It won't be long now, stranger, and it will all be over." Gently he wiped the blood from his face and attempted to clear his eyes. "I'll pray for you, Aaron."

Aaron didn't move all night. He looked dead, but Giles knew he wasn't. The slow erratic rise and fall of his chest bore witness to his continued life. Giles had hoped that Aaron would die in the night, asleep and oblivious to the agony he would be in should he awaken, and being held by someone who cared about him. The option of living to face the press ...well , it was hardly one that he would choose.

Giles felt a surge of distress when, as the sun rose to herald a summer morning, Aaron stirred and he began to wake up.

Giles took Aaron's hand in his.

"Spencer?..." Aaron couldn't remember where he was, all he was aware of was terrible pain throughout his body. He remembered being beaten, but not why. He tried to turn to see Spence, but any movement was impossible.

"Spence...help..me..."

"It's Giles, Aaron. Don't move. I've got you."

Aaron gripped Giles's hand and closed his eyes to stop tears from falling. But they forced their way through between bloodied eye lids, and dripped into the muck that they were sitting in.


	7. Changing History

Chapter 7

Changing History

_**William Shakespeare wrote, 'Fight till the last gasp.'**_

The two men hadn't changed position when the four jailers returned later that morning. Aaron drifted in and out of consciousness, Giles Corey held him on his lap.

"This is it, Aaron. May God be with you." Giles leaned down and touched his face against Aaron. He knew that this would likely be their last morning, unless the torture broke them and they entered a plea, then they would be allowed to live through the farce of the courts, and be executed by hanging. Giles had long ago determined what he would do. He feared for this strange man though, and he prayed that he would have the strength to stand by his convictions.

Two of the jailers lifted Aaron from Giles's lap, the other two pulled Giles to his feet. Aaron made an effort to walk, and managed a few steps before his legs buckled, and he was dragged the rest of the way to fall in front of the magistrates and churchmen that had 'heard' him on the previous day. Aaron was again on his knees in front of the cruel men. He felt Giles's hands under his arms, and he was helped to his feet. Aaron cast a grateful glance at him.

"Take courage, my good friend." Giles whispered.

Deputy Governor Thomas Danforth stood up and said, "Do you wish to enter a plea?"

Giles answered first. "I do not, as there is no case to answer."

Danforth looked at Aaron. Aaron struggled to focus with injured bleeding eyes. He wanted to see the man who was sending him to his death, but his eyes didn't work properly any more. He wondered whether it was his eyes that were injured, or if it was the beating that stopped him from seeing. When it came to it, it really didn't matter. He was soon to die anyway.

As best he could, he looked at Danforth.

"I do not plead." Aaron swayed on his feet. He struggled to remain upright, with the help of Corey, he stood before his tormentors, as he was told he was to be pressed until he either died, or agreed to enter a plea.

Corey was led, Aaron was dragged, out to a field, where a shallow pit had been dug. A crowd had gathered to watch the spectacle. Aaron staggered on the uneven ground, and looked about him at the crowd. They stood in quiet awe, watching the prisoners being stripped of their remaining clothes. Since there were women in the crowd, the magistrate decreed that they be allowed to keep wearing underclothes. The two men were then forced into the shallow ditch, side by side, and a sheet of wood was placed over their bodies.

Aaron whimpered as his back came into contact with the rough stony ground, and his broken arms forced down by his side. The pain caused unconsciousness to threaten, but water was thrown in his face to wake him up. He turned to face Corey, and caught his eye. He saw immense courage in the man lying beside him. Aaron turned away, unsure whether he had the same courage within himself.

He stared at the bright summer sky. He was going to die here, among strangers with strange customs and laws. He thought of Spencer, and how grateful he was that the man he loved was far away from this dreadful place.

The warm sun brought the words of a poem to his mind. Words that he had studied in school, and had not thought of for many years.

_Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art __more lovely__ and more temperate:_

Aaron began to cry silently for Spencer, he remembered his softness and his beauty, which he would not see again.

_Oh Spence, please, be happy. _

Aaron's heart was breaking, not because he was afraid to die. No he did not fear death, only a death without meaning. And this death was senseless. He wanted to be home with Spencer, he wanted to reach out and take Giles's hand, but his arms were pinned.

He wondered how long this would take.

Hours? Days? He had no idea. Spencer could probably tell him the average life expectancy, list names and locations. Aaron wondered if Spencer knew what was happening to him? He hoped that Spence wouldn't mourn for too long. Thinking about Spencer was going to get him through this.

It was all he could think about.

_Beautiful Spencer_

_Loving Spencer_

_Safe Spencer_

Air was forced out of his lungs as the first weight was dropped on his chest, and another on his stomach. He felt the blood which was soaking out of his skin into the dry ground that he was lying on. It felt wet under his body. He let out a cry as a third was added. His tears flowed, and he bit on his lip to prevent further outcries.

He thought of Spencer again, how he chewed on his lip when he was nervous or embarrassed.

_Sweet Spence_

"Do you plead?"

Aaron gasped, "No!"

Aaron lay and listened to the crowd. The sun was going down, and the jeering and laughing of the crowd had stopped. They had, he thought, gone home. It was getting cold. Aaron was having difficulty breathing. At each breath, broken rib ends tore into flesh. He tried to breath in short shallow breaths, but the pain still came. He tried to move but the weight held him still. His tears flowed, and blood came up into his mouth and ran down the side of his face. He guessed he wouldn't survive the night.

The ground he was lying on had become muddy with his blood, his back skinned and torn. He shifted his position slightly; the resulting shock of pain sent him to merciful oblivion.

The rest of the night he spent in a safe dark place where pain couldn't reach him, thinking of Spencer, and their home and their life together. Dreaming of him, remembering every tiny detail of him.

Foul water in his face woke him early the next day.

"Do you plead?"

Aaron shook his head. He licked some of the water from his lips, so desperate was he for a drink. He could hear the crowd return, he could hear his own rasping breaths. A sound escaped his dry cracked lips as more weights were added. He felt blood flow freely into the muddy soil beneath him. He took a shallow shuddering breath as another weight was added and he felt his lungs tear. He tried desperately to take another breath, but his lungs would not inflate. Blood streamed from his open mouth in a thick red river as his ribs tore into his lungs. He stared at the brightening sky as it darkened for him, and Aaron Hotchner died.

**A/N There is a link on my Bio which will take you to an article about Giles Core****y. I ask that you read it to keep the memory of this brave man alive. Thank you**


	8. Orders

Chapter 8

Orders

_**Mors ultima ****linea ****rerum ****est**_

"I am very sorry, but there will be no rescue mission."

It was the day before the wormhole was due to open again. Reid had been psyching himself up, ready to go. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

He and Morgan stared at Rossi as if he had lost it completely.

"What? But we have to try!" Morgan yelled. "We never leave a man behind!"

Reid spoke with difficulty. "But why? We can't just leave him there!"

Rossi sighed, wishing it wasn't him telling them this. "Agent Hotchner is dead. He died over three hundred years ago." He said. "I am not willing to send more agents back, probably to their deaths. Hotch is not suffering, he is dead. I will not risk more lives on the off chance you will find him, and more to the point, find a way back." Rossi sighed."I am sorry, but that is my final word on the matter."He turned to leave the room.

JJ and Prentiss looked down, unable to meet the eyes of anyone else in the room.

"Just a minute, "Reid began. "Hadn't we better talk about this?"

Rossi turned back to his team. "No. There's nothing to talk about. This is not a democracy, I expect you to obey me, just as you would obey Hotch if it were him giving these orders. All the time that you are Federal Officers, you take orders down the chain of command." Rossi could understand how his team were thinking. He had known Aaron Longer than any of them, but this wasn't a time for emotional responses.

Rossi stared at Reid angrily. "And do not question my orders, Agent Reid." How could he lead a team with them second guessing him? What Reid then did, though, Rossi did not expect.

Reid took his ID from his bag, and the gun from his belt, and slammed them down on the desk, his usually soft eyes blazing. "Than I quit!" he yelled, His anger holding back the tears. He ran out of the room before he broke down.

Morgan ran his hand over his head. "And me." He said quietly, putting his gun and ID on the desk next to Reid's. "Sorry, Rossi. I can't leave Hotch back there without trying to bring him home."

Rossi leaned forward on the desk, and sighed. He picked up the ID's and guns and walked slowly back to his office. He considered going after Reid and Morgan, but all he could se happening was a shouting match. He decided to let them cool off first.

He knew that Reid and Hotch shared a house, but he didn't know how deeply their relationship ran. He had heard rumours of 'inappropriate behaviour' (whatever that meant) but at work, until now, they had acted with nothing short of professionalism.

He looked at the ID's in his hand, and tried to decide how he was going to handle it.

* * *

Derek found Spencer outside sitting on a wall, head in his hands. Derek sat beside him.

"What did I just do, Morgan?"

"I'm not sure, Kid, but I did it as well."

Reid stared at Morgan. "You quit?"

Morgan nodded, and leaned forwards, looking at his hands in his lap for a moment. Then he turned to Reid.

"So it looks as though we will be mounting a rescue mission on our own, Kid." He put an arm around Reid's shoulders. "Let's go get our things from the hotel, and book in somewhere else. We can eat and get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be a busy day."

* * *

They hired a car, and found a reasonable looking Motel on the edge of town. They booked adjacent rooms, although they ended up sitting on the bed in Morgan's.

"So, do we have a plan?" Morgan asked. "Or do we just go, and see what happens. You do realise, we probably won't make it back, don't you."

Reid nodded. "I'll take that chance. I couldn't just forget him, Derek. He's...well, you know..."

Morgan nodded, not meeting Reid's tear filled eyes. "Yeah, I know." He put his arm across Spencer's shoulders, and pulled the younger man against him. "So we just go out onto the headland for about two in the afternoon, and wait."

"Yes, guess so. I was hoping for the blessing of the bureau, but with or without it, I must go."

Morgan could feel Reid's body start to shake, as he allowed pent up emotions from the past week well up and overflow. Morgan held on to him, letting him cry against him. He was surprised that he wasn't uncomfortable embracing the man. But there was something about Reid that he needed to protect. For the first time, he understood Hotch and Reid's relationship, and it shocked him that he felt a little envious.

Gradually, Reid calmed down, tired and spent. He stood up. "I guess I'd better go to bed, Derek." he said. "Would you wake me in the morning?"

"Sure, Kid." Morgan said.

* * *

Terrifying dreams haunted Spencer's sleep that night. Morgan could hear him crying out and whimpering through the thin walls and every now and then he would let out a frightened scream. And he really didn't know what to do. So he lay there awake, listening to him call out for Aaron, and praying that they would be able to find him and bring him home.

He wasn't sure how Spencer would cope with loosing him.

It seemed to Morgan that everyone Spencer had come to love had left him. Loosing Aaron could finish him.

_He might even have to quit his job with the BAU..._

Then he remembered – they'd both already done that.

Morgan turned over and put his pillow over his head, trying to block out Spencer's terrified screams and cries.

* * *

Morgan knocked on Spencer's door at eight thirty the next morning. It was a little later than usual, but he thought it would do them both good to get an extra hour asleep. He didn't know when they would be able to sleep again.

Reid came to the door bleary eyed and wrapped in a quilt. He left the door open for Morgan and went back and sat on the bed.

"I didn't sleep too well." He said. His eyes were red and his hair was damp.

"I've ordered coffee and bagels. They're bringing it here to your room."

"Great." Spencer pulled the quilt tighter round his thin pale body. "I'll have a shower while we wait. I need to wake up."

Morgan watched as Reid picked up his clothes and went into the bathroom.

There was a knock on the door, as breakfast arrived. Morgan poured his coffee and ate a bagel. He sat sipping his coffee, as Reid came out of the bathroom. He was rubbing his hair with a towel, as he poured coffee and sugar into the mug. He sat on the only chair and held the mug to his lips, breathing in the coffee smell.

"Don't know when I'll get another cup." He said, trying at humour, and failing.

"Do you have a gun, Reid?"

"No. I only had my FBI issue firearm. I never had my own."

"We're going in unarmed. We are going to have to watch each other's backs, Spence. I was thinking, as soon as we arrive in sixteen ninety two, we need to hide ourselves"

"Yes. We can't help Aaron if we are arrested too."

Morgan's phone rang. "Garcia." He announced, flicking it open. "Hey, Baby!"

"I heard you quit!" she said, getting straight to the point. "What's going on?"

"Reid and I are going back to get Hotch and bring him home." he answered. "Rossi said it was too risky to mount a rescue, so we had to quit."

"So does that mean I can't give you any information on the wormhole that will open at two thirty nine, one point seven miles from the parking area?"

"'Fraid you can't, Princess." grinned Morgan, quickly writing down the information. "We'll call by and see you when we get back."

"I'll hold you to that, gorgeous!" and she cut the connection.

"When you are ready, we can go." Morgan said. "We can sit up on the headland and wait." Morgan showed Spencer what he had written down. "We have a time and a place."

Reid gulped down the rest of his coffee, grabbed his bag, and followed Morgan out to the car.


	9. 1692 Second Jump

Chapter 9

1692 (second jump)

**A/N – There is a racist word ****used ****in this chapter. I am NOT racist, but the characters using the word are. Please do not read if you will be offended. Thank you. Aggie**

Morgan and Reid sat on the dunes in the place that Garcia had told them. Reid kept looking at his watch.

"Two thirty five." He said, taking his watch of and putting it in his bag. He held out the bag and Morgan did the same.

"Four minutes to go." Morgan said, dropping his watch in the bag. "We're on our way, Hotch!"

Spencer was staring out to sea. "I think it's coming!" he said excitedly. "Look!" He pointed out to sea, and Morgan saw it too – a patch of sea where the water was being pulled into little peaks.

"Are you ready, Reid?" Spencer nodded, as they watched the vortex cross the beach, and move along the dune. Spencer took hold of Morgan's wrist, and held it tight. "We don't want to get separated." Spencer said. Morgan nodded briefly. "This is it."

Morgan clasped his hand around Reid's wrist.

The two men walked towards the strange phenomenon, feeling the air around them being sucked away, Spencer lowered his head and put his arm around his face to protect it from the debris that was rushing past them. The wind howled and they were pulled off their feet into the past.

* * *

Morgan opened his eyes, and found himself looking up into a clear summer sky. He was still hanging onto Reid, who was lying on his back, eyes closed. 

"Wake up, Kid. We've got to move!"

Reid groaned and put his hand up to his head. It came away bloody.

"Wonderful!" he said. "Great start!"

"Reid, we have to move. We're on a road, and we will be seen if we don't move!"

"Right. Yeah." Reid was disoriented, and allowed Morgan to lead him off the road into the trees that ran alongside the way. He sat down again and touched his head groggily.

"Are you going to be ok?" Morgan asked. "Do you want to stay here?"

Reid shot him a withering look, and climbed to his feet. "Let's find the town." He said, pointing. "Assuming that was the coast path, the town should be that way." He said. "It's going to be a long walk.

Keeping to the side of the road within easy reach of the safety of the trees, the two men began their long walk to the town of Salem, unsure what they would find, or even if they were in time to snatch Aaron back again.

It had been a long tiring walk when they finally saw the town in the distance. They sat on the grass overlooking the little town as the sun went down. Two men were digging a trench in the field just outside the town. Other than that, there was little movement.

"Guess they have been spooked out by the talk of witches and the like." said Morgan. "Without the benefit of modern science, we'd probably be the same."

"Derek...I...uhh..." Reid caught hold of Morgan's arm. "I don't feel so...uhh..."

Spencer tried to stand up, but couldn't. "Feel strange..."

Morgan turned Spencer to face him. "What is it, Kid?"

Spencer tried to look Morgan in the eyes, but suddenly his head jerked back, and his eyes rolled upward in their sockets. He let out a brief moan, and his back arched. As Morgan held on to him, Spencer's body convulsed.

Morgan held onto him, waiting for the seizure to end. As Reid's shaking began to weaken, Morgan was laying him down on the grass, when he heard an angry voice behind him.

"Hey you! Nigger! Get away from that white boy!"

It had been a long time since Morgan had heard words like that directed at him. He stood up quickly, and turned. He just had time to register a group of four men, when a club was swung towards his face. He tried to dodge it, but it caught him on the side of his head, and he went down.

Morgan was dragged away by two of the men while the others tended to Spencer.

* * *

"Looks the same as your Lizzy, Reverend." 

"He's the first boy to be affected. What has that slave done to him?" answered Parris. "We cannot try an escaped slave without his owner."

"If we order one hundred lashes, he won't need a trial."

"Let us carry the boy to the tavern. When he wakes up, he may be able to tell us something."

Reverend Parris nodded. "Let's get him back. Then we need to speak to the nigger."

Very carefully, Parris and his brother lifted Reid, and started walking down the roadway to the town.

* * *

"Who is your owner?" 

Morgan looked at his accusers with rage burning in his eyes. "I am not owned by anyone!" he growled. "I am travelling with my friend!"

Parris, John Hathorne and Jonathan Corwin stared at Morgan or a moment, and then they laughed at him.

"Friend? You attack a white boy and you expect us to believe you are friends?"

Hathorne recovered first.

"As an escaped slave, you are sentenced to one hundred lashes. You will spend the night in the cells, and the punishment will take place at day break."

Morgan was being held still by two jailers who had recently held Aaron in the same room.

He struggled against the men holding him, but he still felt dizzy and sick from the hit to his head, and he couldn't throw the men off who were holding him. But he kicked and fought until they found it necessary to hit him again.

Suitably subdued, he was taken down and to the cell. The door was opened, and he was thrown in. He landed on his knees in the filthy mess on the floor, and the door was slammed shut on him.

Slowly, Morgan stood up, and as his eyes got used to the dim light in the cell, he started to take in his surroundings. A group of women were huddled in a corner, with a few men. On the other side of the room, as far from the women as possible, a man was sitting leaning against the wall, cradling another man on his lap. He took no notice of Morgan; all his energies were concentrated on the man he was holding. Morgan didn't know if it was because he was black that he was being ignored, or if the man was beyond caring. Carefully, so as not to alarm him, Morgan went and sat beside him.

"The name's Morgan." he said, extending his hand. The man looked at the hand hesitantly, and then he took Morgan's hand and shook it.

"Corey. Giles Corey. And this poor bastard is a stranger called Aaron Hotchner."

"Hotch?" Morgan was completely dumbfounded. He touched Aaron. "Hotch! Aaron, it's Morgan. Spencer's here too. We've come to get you."

"You know him?" Corey asked. "Is he your Master?"

"Master? No. Friend."

"Well, your friend won't hear you. I don't think he's going to make it through the night. If he does, he will go to the press tomorrow." Corey said. "Did you say Spencer?"

Morgan nodded. "Why?"

"He has been calling out for Spencer when he is asleep and delirious. He said he owes his life to him."

"That's right, Corey. We both do. Spencer and I have come to free him." Morgan stroked Aaron's hair. It was stiff with dry blood. Morgan gently touched his face.

"Oh my god, man, what have they done to you?" He looked at Corey. "Can I hold him? I need to talk to him, let him know we are here."

Without a word Corey let Morgan take Aaron into his arms. Morgan held him against his chest, appalled at what he was seeing. Gently rocking him, talking to him.

"Hotch, we're here, man. We've come to get you out of here." Morgan spoke softly, praying that it wouldn't be too late.

The sun was just coming up when the door opened. Aaron was dragged from Morgan's arms and thrown aside. Morgan was taken outside.

_**Bayard Ruskin said**______**"**__**Bigotry's birthplace is the sinister back room of the mind where plots and schemes are hatched for the persecution and oppression of other human beings."**__****_


	10. The Flogging

Chapter 10

The Flogging

_**Good men must die, but death cannot kill their names. --**__**Proverb**_

Spencer woke up lying on a wooden bed with a heavy woven blanket covering him. He was relieved to note that he was still dressed, and that the woman who was filling a bowl with water from a jug had not stripped him. She stood with her back to him, and turned as she heard him try to sit up.

He clasped his hand to his head, and groaned. Quickly, she came to his side, and gently but firmly pushed him back down.

"You should not try to move. You have been bewitched. You need to rest."

"Bewitched?" Spencer laid back down at her insistence. "No, I had a radiation induced convulsion."

The woman pushed his sleeves up to show him the bruising on his skin. "These are spectral markings." she said.

"No!" Reid examined the marks. "The radiation caused them. Nobody did this to me."

She wiped Spencer's brow with a cool wet cloth. "You are delirious, my friend. But do not fear. The slave who did this to you is being punished."

"Slave? Oh no" Spencer swung his legs off the bed. "I have to stop it! Where is he?"

"Oh, do you want to watch?" she asked. "I suppose you have a right to, since it was you that he attacked." She passed him his shoes. "Follow me."

Quickly, Spencer put on his shoes, and followed the woman down the stairs, and out into the street. Every few steps he had to stop. His eyes were not focusing properly yet, and his head was hurting.

"This way." She hurried down a side road. "It is in the market square."

As Spencer got closer to the square, he could hear the sounds of the crowd who had gathered to watch the punishment, and the sound of someone counting...

...and the sound of a whip, as it whistled through the air.

"...thirty six...thirty seven..."

"Stop!!" Spencer shouted, pushing through the crowd. "Stop it!"

Morgan was tied to a wooden frame, his shirt torn, back exposed to the cruel leather whip, being wielded by the brutal jailer. Morgan's smooth and perfect dark skin was torn in long open gashes, blood running down and soaking his clothes. He hung inert from the wooden scaffold.

Spencer ran to Morgan, and stood between him and the tormentor. The thirty eighth lash opened the skin across Spencer's face. He yelped in pain, raising his arms to protect himself. He was pulled away by the magistrate.

"Get back! What have you to do with this?" Magistrate Hathorne said. "Are you his owner?"

"...thirty nine..."

"Yes! He's mine!" Spencer was holding his face, the blood seeping between his fingers. "Stop, please. He is valuable. Cut him down now!"

Hathorne raised his hand, and the whip was thrown angrily to the ground. The ropes around Morgan's wrists were cut, and he fell in a bloody heap. Spencer ran to his side. He played into their rules.

"I need to take him with me now." Reid just wanted Morgan away from the mob baying for his blood. He very carefully turned him and lifted him, so that he was standing, with his head on Spencer's shoulder.

Standing there, holding Morgan, he turned to the Hathorne and a clergyman standing with him. "If my slave dies," he your town will pay dearly!"

He tried to carry him, but all he could do was drag him out of the way of the mob.

Spencer half dragged, half carried the unconscious agent out of the square along the road leading out of the town. He felt his heart beating too fast, and he was shaking with delayed shock. He expected to be dragged back at any moment, but he tried to keep up the appearance of confidence and indignation, at least until he was out of view of the surprised crowd.

Hathorne and Parris watched him go.

"There's something not right about those two." said Parris, running his finger round the clerical collar that was rubbing his fat neck uncomfortably.

"I agree. I'll have someone follow them." said Hathorne. "That white boy is either bewitched, or he enjoys black flesh."

Spencer was exhausted by the time he had brought Morgan back up to the field above the town. With relief, he laid him down on the grass on his front, head to one side. He checked his pulse, which was strong, if not erratic. He seemed to be breathing fairly well, too.

The gash across his face had stopped bleeding, but it hurt like hell. He wiped the stickyness away and pushed his hair back where it had stuck in the drying blood.

He had no water to wash the horrible rips across Morgan's back, but they looked clean. He took off his own shirt, and the remains of Morgan's sweat shirt. He folded the sweat shirt into a pad to cover his back, and tore his shirt into wide bandages, and tied them as best he could around Morgan's back and chest. When he had finished, he tried to wake him up.

Morgan wouldn't wake up, so Spencer sat next to him in the afternoon sun, and watched the activity in the town below. The group of watchers that had been so excited at seeing Morgan being flogged had moved from the Market Square to stand in the field where he and Morgan had seen the men digging earlier. Clearly something was going to happen there. Spencer watched carefully, and he jumped when he felt a hand on his arm.

Morgan had begun to waken, and had turned onto his side, and reached out for Spencer.

"Hey, Genius..." he whispered hoarsely. "What gives?"

Spencer crawled through the grass to Morgan. "Thank goodness you are awake! You were starting to worry me there!"

"I've seen Hotch." Morgan. "He's alive, but in a bad way. He's being held in the prison cell, a guy called Corey is with him."

"Oh so we aren't too late!" Spencer felt profound relief. "I will go down after dark and see if I can get to him. I may be able to free Corey too."

"It will be too late after dark." Morgan turned over and attempted to sit up. Spencer very gently helped him, trying not to touch his injured back. "They are bringing him and Corey out today to be pressed." Morgan thought back to the picture he had seen on the internet three hundred years in the future. "Not sure if I will be able to come down with you, Kid."

"Aaron survived the first night, Morgan." said Spencer, going through the internet article as well. "I'll go down just after dark and get him out." Spencer squeezed Morgan's arm. "You can wait here, try and get your strength up. We've got a long walk home, and I don't think I'll be able to carry you both."

Morgan managed a small grin. Spence smiled back. Then his attention was suddenly back on the town as the crowd in the field below became vocal.

_(The men crouching in the undergrowth behind them decided now to return to the town with the things that they had learned.__ And they didn't want to miss the pressing.)_

"They're bringing someone out." said Spencer.

They watched as Corey walked across the field to the sounds of the crowd cheering. Behind him, another man was dragged towards the shallow pit. He was left standing alone, swaying and staggering weakly, trying to keep from falling.

Spencer recognised that the second man was his Aaron, beaten and bloody, staring around blankly, going to his death. The crowd hushed as the two men were stripped of their clothes, and forced into the ditch. Spencer's eyes opened wide in fear for his lover, and he let out a little cry as he watched Aaron being so badly mistreated.

_I'm coming for you, Babe. Please, hold on just a little longer!_

Spencer and Derek watched as boards were placed on the bodies of the two men, and huge boulders dropped on them. Spencer winced as he almost felt the agonies that Aaron was going through. Tears of fury welled up in his eyes.

"Hang on, Aaron. We are going to get you out of there!" Spencer whispered. He felt Morgan's comforting hand on his shoulder.

"We're coming for you, Hotch. We're coming."


	11. The Rescue

Chapter 11

The Rescue

_**Professor Jens Krause said**__**,"**__**Results from a study at the University of Leeds show that it takes a minority of just five per cent to influence a crowd's direction – and that the other 95 per cent follow without realising it.**__**"**_

The sun was going down, and it was getting cold and dark. Spencer was not particularly looking forward to going into the town alone at night, but Morgan was too badly hurt to come. He stood up and turned to his companion.

"It's time I was going. I don't want to leave Aaron there for a moment longer than I have to." Spencer said.

"You honestly expect me to sit here and watch and not do anything to help you? I can't do that, Kid."

"You will be able to see if anything goes wrong, and if it does, then put plan 'B' into action."

"Plan 'B'?"

"You will have time to think of one while you are sitting here."

Morgan tilted his head to one side and studied Spencer. "Was that a joke?"

"I've got to go."

Spencer turned his back on Morgan, and started the walk down the hill into the town, keeping to the shadows, against the trees.

Morgan waited until Spencer was out of sight, then started to follow him. He had a little plan of his own. He had seen that Hotch had been relieved of both his guns, and he thought that they were probably in the judges' room where he had been sentenced. If they were there, he would find them. It was unlikely that they would be locked away, and even if they were, he thought that seventeenth century safes shouldn't be too hard to crack. There were two reasons that he needed to get them. One, he thought he might need them, and two, he didn't think they ought to be left behind. He had a little smile to himself. Mustn't break the Prime Directive! Spencer would like that!

He watched Spence up ahead of him, and held back. At the bottom of the hill, just inside the town limits, the road branched. Spencer took the left fork. Derek waited until he was well out of sight, and he went right, towards the Magistrate's building. He kept in the shadows, afforded by the wooden buildings. The light streaming from the windows of some of the houses gave Morgan a good idea of where he was going. Once he reached the Magistrate's building, he checked to see that he wasn't being followed, opened the door and slipped inside.

He was starting to feel light headed, a mixture of adrenalin, thirst, blood loss, and pain. But he was determined that he would carry this assignment he had allocated himself, and be ready to help Spencer, should it be necessary.

He hadn't reckoned on it being this dark inside the building. He kept forgetting that it was the seventeenth century, and he felt a little silly feeling for a light switch. He knew that one of these rooms along on the right was the room where he had been hauled up in front of the magistrates. He very carefully opened the first door. The room was also dark, but a little light filtered in through the window from a house across the street. The room was like the one he had been in. Seats in a semicircle around a central area where the prisoners stood. There was a table under the window, but there was nothing on the table, or underneath it. There were no cupboards where things could be hidden. Quickly he left the room and entered the next one.

A similar layout of seats in this room also, the difference being that there were shelves fixed to the wall on either side of the window. Quickly he walked round the chairs and checked the shelves.

Piled on them were things which Morgan supposed had been confiscated from prisoners. Neatly folded clothes, shoes, leather pouches that appeared to contain money. There were some knives in a wooden box.

And at the back of the topmost shelf, Hotch's guns.

He took them off the shelf, and checked the clips and was pleased to find them almost full. One round had been fired from Aaron's belt gun; the ankle gun clip was still full.

As he pushed the clips back into place, he heard shouting and running outside. He crouched down by the window, and watched a group of men running past. They were going in the direction of the field, where Reid was.

Morgan slipped one gun into his waist band, the other he kept hold of, and he followed the group of men heading towards the field.

* * *

Spencer had been surprised on reaching the field that there was only one guard over Aaron and Corey. But then, this was supposed to be a God fearing community, and as such, in the time they were living in, people would have been happy to go along with the church, and see the end of these two innocent men. These poor souls were dominated by the clergy, who had instilled fiery hell in their hearts. 

The young jailer would have likely put up a good fight against Spencer, had Spencer not taken him completely by surprise and knocked him out with a rock he had picked up. Spencer caught the man and laid him down carefully. He checked his vital signs, and left him in the recovery position, and quickly went to where Aaron and Corey were lying.

"Aaron, it's Spence. I've come to get you out."

He tried to move the boulders off the board. They were very heavy, and he only managed to shift one to the side. As it moved, Aaron moved and moaned in pain. Reid's hands were shaking. Surely he hadn't come all this way, only to find he couldn't move them. He stepped down into the pit, and stood between the two men, and took hold of the board, and tipped it towards the edge of the pit. Aaron was suddenly released, and he cried and whimpered as blood returned to his limbs. Spencer picked him up off the muddy ground, and carefully laid him on the grass next to the pit. Quickly, he turned to Corey and did the same. Corey extended a shaking hand to Spencer.

"Thank-you, boy." he said softly. "Are you Spencer?"

Spencer nodded.

"Your friend told me about you. He knew you would come for him." Corey managed to stand, and stepped out of the pit. "There are people coming." he said. "You must leave now!"

Spencer stooped down to gather Aaron to him, when suddenly, they were surrounded by the townsfolk, men and women, armed with clubs, some carrying torches. Spencer stood, holding Aaron's limp body close, unsure what he was going to do. He looked round at the crowd, who were slowly advancing on the three men. Spencer saw fear in their eyes, and he turned away, and crouched down, protecting Aaron with his own body. He fully expected to be beaten to death here in this foreign field, but he would protect Aaron with his last breath.

One of the men, who Spencer recognised as a clergyman pulled Spencer up by the hair, pulling Aaron out of his grasp, and dropping him back into the pit. He pushed Spencer towards the two Magistrates, Hathorne and Corwin, who held him between them. They turned him so that he was facing the crowd.

"You have acted against the decree of Church in that you have freed these blasphemers from their God proscribed fate." Hathorne shouted so that the crowd could hear. Spencer could see the crowd was becoming agitated and disturbed, and was being incited to violence.

Spencer was pushed into the crowd, who raised their weapons, and began to hit him. Spencer curled himself up, but with so many assailants, he had no chance. He tried to protect his head with his arms, but even as he did it, he realised how futile the movement was. A crack in the kidneys knocked him sideways, exposing his face to his attackers. He looked up at a woman who was standing over him. It was the woman who had nursed him earlier.

He thought, how fickle people were. How easily swayed.

Spencer caught the woman's eye, but all he saw there was madness. She raised the club she was carrying, and brought it down across his face. Blood poured anew from the cut from the whip, and he felt a crack as his nose was broken. Blood ran down into his mouth and he fell onto his back. He turned onto his front and he tried to crawl away back towards Aaron. She hit him again, across the back of his head. The sounds around him merged into a roar as blood now ran down the back of his neck. His vision began to fade, and he went down, lying on the grass and at the mercy of the enraged crowd.


	12. Night Run

Chapter11

_**Leo **__**Rosten**__** once said, "I learned that it is the weak **__**who**__** are cruel, and that gentleness is to be expected only from the strong."**_

Night Run

Spencer lay still on the ground, as the beating continued. Through the legs of the people, he saw Aaron's hand over the edge of the pit. He noticed how dark the skin was compared to his own. He saw with amazing clarity each tiny hair on the back of Aaron's hand. He stretched out his hand towards Aaron, and he watched through fading eyes how the fingers were twitching. Spencer kept his eyes on Aaron until his vision faded completely. Only then did he close his eyes and turn himself over to death.

_I am so sorry, Aaron. I am so sorry I have failed you. I was so close..._

A sound split the air...

_A gunshot?__ How could it be a gunshot_

...the people beating Spencer stopped what they were doing, and turned.

"Get away from him, or the next shot will be between someone's eyes!"

_Morgan? Where did you get the gun_

Spencer couldn't move from where he was lying. He struggled to open his eyes, but when he did, he couldn't see.

"Another step, and you are a dead man!" Morgan again. "Get right back!"

Then he felt Morgan's hands on him, lifting him up, pulling him against him.

"Spence, can you stand? I am going to carry you out of here." Morgan held Reid round the waist with one hand, as he pointed the gun with the other. The crowd were standing back from him, but they weren't dispersing.

"Aaron! You need to get him out. It's who we came for." his voice broken and low. "We can't leave him."

"I know, Kiddo." Morgan thought for a moment, still holding back the crowd with the gun.

"Corey!" Giles was lying down playing dead. The crowd hadn't touched him. He raised his head, and looked at the strange dark skinned man. "Corey, are you able to carry Aaron out of here? He needs you now."

Corey staggered to his feet. "I owe you and Aaron my life. I will carry him where ever you wish."

He bent down to Aaron, and carefully, more gently that seemed possible, lifted him in his arms.

The four men backed away from the crowd of townsfolk, Morgan training the gun on Hathorne, who was at the front. Morgan thought what a dangerous situation they were in. Ok, he could shoot Hathorne, maybe even one other person, but after that the crowd would be on them and they would be dead in seconds. And he would not be able to walk backwards for long. And as soon as he had his back to the crowd, then they were finished. If he wasn't injured, he had a chance of outrunning them. If he wasn't carrying Spencer. But as it was...

He painfully continued to walk backwards along the road, towards the fork, the right branch leading out of the town. He hoped that they wouldn't follow them past the town limits.

Corey was walking next to Morgan, carrying Aaron. The crowd was murmuring and getting more and more agitated, pushing forward.

"Get back!" Morgan yelled.

Spencer whispered something in Morgan's ear. A half smile flitted across Morgan's face.

"Stop now, or I will put a curse on your town. I will make your crops fail and make your flocks and herds barren!"

Hathorne and Corwin turned to face the crowd. They held up their hands. "Let them go!" shouted Corwin. Morgan heard a tremor in his voice.

Good. They were scared.

Morgan and Corey continued walking, carrying their precious cargo, Morgan keeping a wary eye on the crowd. They hadn't moved since they were told to stop by their Magistrates. But they were still watching.

At last they reached the fork in the road. Now they were out of sight of the townsfolk, and again, they were in darkness.

Morgan noticed that Corey was starting to stagger.

"Hey man, we can slow down now!" he called to him.

"We cannot. They will not leave us to flee. They will follow soon."

"We need to rest, Corey, and I need to check these two out."He looked Corey over. "And you."

"I am not in need of checking." said Corey. Morgan turned aside into the trees. Corey followed.

"We can rest here. The sun will be up soon, I want to take a look at these two before the sun comes up." He waited at the edge of the road for Corey. "That is probably when they will follow us."

Wordlessly, they pushed their way through the bushes and trees. About a hundred yards in there was a small clearing, lighted by the moon. Morgan sat down on a patch of grass and rested Reid against his chest. He sighed with immense relief. Corey put Aaron beside him, and started pacing.

"Rest, Corey. If only for a few minutes." said Morgan. "You will feel so much better afterwards."

Corey sat opposite Morgan, leaning on a tree. Almost at once, he fell asleep. Morgan thought the man must have been running on adrenalin for so long, he wasn't able to stop. A short sleep would do him good.

He turned his attention to Hotch and Spencer.

Hotch was lying on his side. Morgan looked at his back, and he felt sick. There was very little skin intact, and the cuts were infected and oozing. It felt sticky and Morgan was very concerned. If he got septicaemia in sixteen ninety two, he would die. He had nothing to clean the wounds with, but he suspected it was too late for that now.

Aaron's right wrist was obviously broken. It was bent at an impossible angle, swollen and blackening. Gently he ran his hands along his arms, and found a break in the humerus of his left arm, and the ulna of his right. There were several broken ribs that he could feel, and his face and the back of his head was bruised and bloody. Even the tops of his feet were cut. He was breathing erratically, but at least he was breathing. Blood from his mouth told Morgan that at least on lung was damaged.

Morgan wondered if they were too late after all. If they didn't get back, all he could do would be to hold him while he died. He was very afraid for him.

_Please, Dear God, where ever you are, please don't let it come to that. Please help me to get__ him__ home in time..._

He put Aaron on his side, supported by his own outstretched legs, and turned to Spencer.

He had taken quite a beating. The cut on his face (how did that happen?) was open and blood was still running from it into his long hair. It had dried there, sticking it to his face. Morgan pushed it to the side. There was dry blood under his nose and around his mouth, and his nose looked broken. He touched Spencer's lips, and felt strangely moved. Without thinking, he leaned forward and kissed his broken lips lightly. Reid stirred at his touch, and Morgan pulled away quickly.

"Aaron...Aaron?..."

Morgan let out a shuddering breath. "It's ok, Kid. Aaron is here. We got him out." softly he stroked Reid's hair. "Sleep now, rest, and then we will have to find a way home."

He looked at Corey, who was sleeping still. He lifted Spencer onto his lap and held him close, and rested his face against his hair, and closed his eyes.


	13. The Journey to Lynn

Chapter 13

The Journey to Lynn

_**Jean Luc Picard said, "Time is a companion that goes with us on a **__**journey**__**. It reminds us to cherish each moment, because it will never come again. What we leave behind is not as important as how we **__**have lived"**_

Morgan opened his eyes with a start. Something had disturbed him. He hadn't meant to fall asleep. He took the gun from his waist band where he had put it earlier.

The half moon was still lighting up the clearing, but the tops of the trees were starting to light up as the sun rose on another summer's day. He sighed, and looked around at his companions. Aaron hadn't moved. He was still asleep, or maybe unconscious, lying next to him. Spencer was resting his head on Morgan's chest, sleeping fitfully.

Corey was standing watching him.

"You are a strange man." he said to Morgan. "You act and speak like a white man, yet you clearly are not. Has Spencer educated you? If so, you are a fortunate slave indeed."

"I have never been a slave." said Morgan. "Although my ancestors were. I am a free man, and Spencer, Aaron and I work together." Corey frowned.

"I do not understand your ways, but I understand compassion, as wrapped in any colour." he said. "I have a cousin in a nearby town. We can go there to get help for you and your friends."

"Is it far, Corey? I don't think Hotch...erm...Aaron can travel far. He is too ill."

"We can make it. Enoch is a healer, and a Christian. We will be safe there. We must travel south to Lynn. As soon as you are ready, we can begin." Corey came and sat the other side of Aaron. "I pray your brave friend will survive." He gently touched Hotch's shoulder. "Do you wish me to carry Aaron?"

"I am going to see if I can waken Spencer first. If he can walk, I will carry Aaron."

Spence was still sleeping on Morgan. He laid him against his arm so that he could see his face.

"Spence, wake up now." He touched his face, rubbing his skin to waken him. "Spencer, you need to wake up."

Slowly, his eyes opened and he looked up at Morgan. "Are you ok? Is Aaron here?"

"Yes, and yes. But we have to move. Do you think you can walk?" he said.

Spencer attempted to get to his feet. Corey reached out a hand and helped him up.

"Yes, I think so." He stood swaying as Morgan stood, and lifted Aaron in his arms. "Ok, Corey, you lead the way."

The strange little group turned south and followed the road, keeping in among the trees. They had been walking in silence for about an hour, but not making very much headway. Reid was clearly unwell. His steps were faltering, and he kept stumbling. Suddenly he stopped, and held onto a tree to remain upright. He hung his head forward, and his breathing was raspy and laboured. He turned his head to the side and looked for Morgan.

"Derek, help...me...I..."

He suddenly cried out, and convulsed again, throwing his body backwards onto the forest floor with his back arched and his head thrown back. He trembled and shook as electrical impulses shocked his brain, and he whimpered in pain as his muscles bent his body unnaturally. Morgan stood helplessly. Corey stared in fear and horror.

Morgan saw the terrified look on Corey's face. For a moment, Morgan thought he was going to run, but he didn't, although he stood at a distance, and was clearly afraid.

It took Reid longer this time to come out of the seizure. Gradually, it slowed down, and his clenched jaw loosened. Blood ran from his mouth where he had bitten his tongue. He lay still on his back, head thrown back, eyes open and staring.

Still holding onto Aaron, Morgan stooped down next to him. "Hey, Kid, are you ok? Can you hear me?"

Spencer blinked, and turned is head."What happened?"

"You had another fit, Spence. It's the residual radiation. The faster we get away from here, the better." Morgan reached out to him. "Can you walk?"

"I don't know, Derek." Spencer turned to Corey. "Can you help me?"

Corey looked apprehensive. He spoke to Morgan. "Is he bewitched?"

"No, he's ill. We have to get him away from here. Can you help him?"

Corey hesitantly crossed to Reid, and put out his hand.

"Hold on..." Spencer was pale, even by his standards. "I think I'm going to be sick." He turned onto his front, and threw up, heaving on an empty stomach. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

"Oh I feel so bad." He coughed and retched again, his whole body going into spasms. When at last it was over, he sat back on his heels, breathing heavily, his eyes watering, shaking with exhaustion.

Reid stood up, but without support, he would have fallen again. Corey put an arm around his waist.

"Come on, Spencer, I will get you somewhere safe."

The sun was in the sky now, but Salem was left behind. Morgan and Corey walked side by side.

"How far, Corey?" Morgan was very concerned about Aaron. And he had no idea how he was going to get home. Just to somewhere safe where he could take care of Aaron, and get some help for Spencer, and Corey and himself...they all needed medical attention.

"Not far now, Morgan. If you look ahead, you can see smoke above the trees. That is from the hearths of Lynn, where Enoch lives. He will help us."

It was with relief that Morgan saw the smoke. After about thirty minutes of walking, they saw the village.

Corey lowered Reid to the ground, and said, "I will go ahead, and tell Enoch. My village is not used to Negroes."

Morgan nodded, and sat beside Reid, Aaron across his lap.

"Fair enough, Corey." Morgan leaned back onto a tree. Although the lacerations on his back were very sore, he was too tired to sit unaided. "Please, Corey, don't be long."

He watched Corey as he went down the lane towards the village.

"Spencer, do you have any ideas how we are going to get home?"

Reid looked at him worriedly. "None at all." he said. "I have thought about it, Morgan, but unless we know precisely when and where the wormholes open, we have no chance of getting home."

Morgan sighed. "Yeah. I thought so. The primary objective was to save Hotch." He pulled him a little closer. "And we've done that. I never thought any further than that."

"I thought about it, but I didn't consider it to be important." said Spencer. "It still isn't, as long as Aaron and you are safe."

Morgan nodded. "It's an easy sacrifice to make, as long as we are alive, does it really matter where we are."

"Or when!" said Spencer "I guess we'd better make the most of being here." He glanced up at Morgan. Life in this century was not going to be much fun for him.

* * *

Three hundred and sixteen years away, a woman was staring in shock at her computer screen. She checked the information, and double checked it. Then she left her bunker and went to her boss's office.

Hesitantly, she knocked on the door.

"Come in!" Rossi called. "Oh, hello Garcia." He indicated a chair. "Sit down. You have something to tell me?"

"I...er...don't know where to start, sir."

Rossi sighed. "Let me help you. Morgan and Reid have gone back to find Hotchner." Garcia looked startled. "That's why they quit. They wouldn't quit and then not go."

Garcia nodded. "I have been monitoring the wormholes, sir, and the Homeland Security information." She gripped the arms of the chair she was sitting on. "Sir, they've abandoned the tests. They are not going to open up any more wormholes. If they don't, Hotch, Reid and Morgan will be stranded out there. We can't get them back."


	14. The Healer

Chapter 14

The Healer

_**Jack Dawson said, "**__**I love waking up in the morning not knowing what's gonna happen or, who I'm gonna meet, where I'm gonna wind up." **_

It was hours that Morgan sat waiting for Corey to come back. When he did he was not alone. There was a man and a woman with him. As they approached, Morgan and Spencer stood, Spencer extending his hand to them.

"I'm Spencer Reid, and this is Derek Morgan, and Aaron Hotchner. We are very glad to see you."

Corey introduced Enoch, his cousin the healer, and Enoch's wife Elizabeth. Enoch took Reid's hand and shook it heartily.

"It's good to be able to offer a place of rest to the ones who delivered my cousin from certain death." said Enoch. "You are welcome to stay as long as you wish."

"Thank you." said Spencer. "We would be happy to work for our keep."

"Not necessary. " Elizabeth said. "You have more than earned your keep for a lifetime."

"That's very generous of you. Thank you."

"Please, follow me."

Morgan bent down and cradled Aaron in his arms and lifted him. He still wasn't moving, but he was alive, his breathing was erratic and shallow, but he was breathing. Morgan feared for him, and said a silent prayer as he carried him along the lane with the others.

Enoch and Elizabeth's home was a little cabin on the edge of the village. It opened into one room with a fire blazing in the grate. Although simple, it was welcoming and comfortable. Elizabeth led Morgan into a bedroom through a side door, and pulled back the blanket on the bed. Morgan laid Aaron on the bed, and turned him on his side. Over the last hour, he had felt Aaron's skin becoming hotter, and he was in a fever, burning up under Morgan's hand. Enoch and Spencer followed them in. Spencer went and took Aaron's hand, Enoch sent Elizabeth to get water and towels

Spencer leaned close to Aaron, and spoke to him.

"Aaron, we are safe now. This man is a doctor, and he is going to make you well." Spencer could feel tears pricking at his eyes; tears of worry. "You have got to get well, Aaron. What would I do without you?"

Corey put his arm around Reid's shoulder. "My cousin is an excellent healer, Spencer. If anyone can help your friend, he can."

Elizabeth returned with warm water and clean towels, and began to carefully wash Aaron's back. Spencer took a wet towel and wiped his forehead with it, in an attempt to cool him, and didn't once release his hand.

_Please, Aaron...you have to get well. I need you with me, I can't imagine living without you..._

It took a long time, and much care to clean the blood and dirt from Aaron's back, but Elizabeth was a wonderful nurse, and she worked diligently until she had finished. She carefully bandaged his wounds and laid him on his front. Then Enoch splinted his arms.

"That is all we can do now until he wakes up." said Enoch, "I have some elixir for him when he does."

He showed the bottle to Spencer, who read aloud the label:

"'Daffy's Elixir Salutis - A cure for the gout, kidney and bladder stones; 'languishing and melancholy'; shortness of breath; tuberculosis, scurvy, dropsy, rickets, pestilence, ague and the king's evil.'" Spencer frowned. "Pretty amazing stuff! What's in it?"

"It is very popular, and we have been using it for twenty years to good effect." said Enoch, detecting a fleeting look of incredulity on Reid's face. "The recipe is a secret."

Spencer passed the bottle back and turned his attention back to Aaron. He began to clean the dirt and blood from his face. He had no idea what to do about the damaged lungs, but hoped that if he kept still, his ribs would heal.

"Now it's your turn, Spencer." said Corey.

"I'm ok, Corey. Please check out Morgan first." said Spencer. Morgan had sat on a chair in the corner of the room and fallen asleep. Spencer shook him awake.

"Hey, Derek. It's your turn now."

Morgan flickered open his eyes. Spencer smiled at him. "Your turn to be checked over."

* * *

Rossi had been on the phone for about four hours that afternoon. His emotions had gone from hopeful optimism through frustration and annoyance to pure anger, ending with relief as he put down the receiver. Straight away he picked the phone up again, and called through to Garcia.

"Please can you come to my office for a moment?...Thank you."

Garcia knocked and Rossi called her in. He indicated for her to sit down.

"I have been on the phone to Homeland Security for a good part of the day. They have agreed, under pressure, to run the test twice more."

Garcia's eyes lit up "Under pressure Sir?"

Rossi allowed one of his rare smiles to flash across his face. "Let's just say, I know people." He made an appearance of being busy, as if what he was about to say was run of the mill, nothing extraordinary. "Tomorrow, at fourteen thirty, a wormhole will open up, was it one point seven miles from the parking area?"

Garcia nodded, reddened under Rossi's penetrating gaze.

"And then another, two days later, at the same place, through which I will be returning with, hope, one profiler, and two ex-profilers. I will have two days at the other end to find them, but if I can't I will attempt to return alone. I am telling you this, Garcia, because it is not a Federal matter, and I will be taking leave and doing this in my own time."

Garcia nodded mutely. This was the last thing she had expected when she had been called to his office.

"I would be grateful, Garcia, if you would wait at the...erm...landing point with a medical team, ready for when I hope to return."

Again she nodded. This was wonderful news. She resisted the impulse to dance around the room.

"I have sent the details to your computer. I am starting my leave now. I hope to see you on the headland in three days time at fourteen thirty."

Garcia kept a hold of herself until she closed her office door behind her, then she started to dance.

Rossi shredded a pile of paper, and collected his things. He needed to find something suitable to wear, and get things ready. He opened the drawer of his desk and looked at Morgan and Reid's guns, deciding whether or not to take them with him. No. He would just take his own. One handgun in sixteen ninety two was quite enough. He left the BAU office with a lot on his mind. He had known about Homeland Security's plan to stop the tests before Garcia, as he had also been monitoring their computer. He had known for a while now that he would be going back to get them. His three best men were stranded.

* * *

Derek was sitting outside on the veranda while Spencer was inside with Aaron. His back was stinging like hell from being 'checked over'. He didn't want to sound ungrateful, but Elizabeth had seemed almost afraid to touch him. Reid had explained to their hosts that he wasn't a slave, but he supposed it would take a long time to be accepted. He sighed when he thought about what his ancestors had gone through to gain freedom, and three hundred years from now, racism had only just begun to be beaten. He looked around at the landscape. This was certainly a beautiful country. How sad that behind doors and in hearts there was so much hatred and prejudice.

Spencer was sitting with Aaron. Elizabeth had cleaned up the gash on his face, and Enoch had checked him for broken bones. It seemed though that apart from a couple of cracked ribs, his worst injury was his bitten tongue, and the lump on the back of his head where he had fallen when he had the seizure. He hoped he was far enough away from the source of the radiation now to not have another. He had managed to gain the trust of these people, but he thought having a fit in front of them would seriously damage the trust he had managed to build.

Aaron still had shown no signs of waking up. Spencer stroked his hair, and touched his face. Leaning forward, he kissed him lightly on the forehead.

"Come on, Babe, wake up. Just show me that you are still in there."

Spencer sat on the bed, looking down at him. Then he went to the other side of the bed, and pulled back the cover, and kicked off his shoes. and lay down next to him, under the blanket. He rested his face on Aaron's neck, kissing him gently. He carefully put his arm around Aaron, and lay very close, nuzzling his hair, touching the skin of his chest. He hoped that Aaron would feel him close, and respond to him.

"I love you, Babe. Wake up for me..."

He closed his eyes to enjoy the warmth from Aaron's body. He hadn't intended to fall asleep.

He was woken up by Elizabeth's scream, and a crash as she dropped the tray that she was carrying.


	15. 1692 Third Jump

Chapter 15

1692 Third Jump

_**Rear Admiral Albert "Al" **__**Calavicci**__** once said, "**__**Ziggy**__** says the odds are real good**__**."**_

Rossi sat on the grass where a few days earlier Reid and Morgan had sat. He was wearing rough cotton pants and a tunic held with a leather belt. He felt like (and indeed looked like) an extra from Star Trek. Did people actually dress like this, or was it only in the imagination of Mr Rodenberry? He looked down at his sandal clad feet. They were rubbing already. Fantastic. he had invested in a bag not unlike Reid's, into which he had put some water in a leather canteen, a knife, a roughly drawn map of the coast of Massachusetts, and his very twenty first century gun.

He checked the time. Any minute now...

He didn't know what to expect, he only knew what this phenomenon looked like from Reid and Morgan's account. But he recognised it right away.

He stood and faced the vortex, and watched as it came closer. Leaves and small stones flew through the air around him, stinging the back of his neck and his bare arms. He stepped towards it, and was pulled off his feet...

...onto a woodland bordered dirt road. He landed on his back and as soon as he was able, he ran to the edge of the road into the trees. He took a look around. He needed to remember this place. It was here that he needed to be in two days time, preferably with Reid, Morgan and Hotchner.

He took out the knife, and cut a deep cross on the trunk of the tree at the side of the road. A brief glance at the map, and he began his walk towards Salem.

* * *

Morgan leaped up when he heard the scream. He ran back into the cabin. Elizabeth was crying on her husbands shoulders at the door to the bedroom. Enoch is shouting at Reid. 

"Get out now! I will not have such behaviour in my home. And take him with you!"

Morgan could hear Reid, trying to speak, but not managing to get any words out.

_What the hell had he done?_

Giles was trying to reason with his cousin.

"But, cousin, it is not what you think!" he said. "It is their way. Showing friendship, a way of healing. It's not what you think!"

_Ahh__ That's what he had done!_

Enoch turned on Corey. "And you brought this abomination into my home. You must all leave!"

"I am sorry cousin. Please allow me to stay and make thing up to you."

"Very well, Giles Corey, you may stay. I will assume that you didn't know about this!"

"P-please, let us l-leave Aaron here. He is too s-si-sick to be m-moved." Reid stammered.

"I want nothing of you in my home. Leave now."

Spencer wrapped Aaron in the blanket with shaking hands. He was shocked at the reaction of his erstwhile benefactor. He had only been holding Aaron. Now his stupidity had lost them a chance of survival. He doubted they would get far without Corey.

He looked across at Morgan, who came in and picked Aaron up, and Reid followed him out of the cabin. They began to walk away, Corey ran up behind them, berating them.

When he got close, he passed something to Spencer. It was the bottle of elixir.

"May God go with you, my friends." he said quietly. "Keep travelling southwest along the border. You may be able to join a wagon train west."

"Thank you, Giles." said Spencer.

"And don't show your faces round here again!" shouted Corey for the benefit of his cousin.

When they got out of the view of the village, wearily, they sat down. Reid put his head in his hands. Morgan put his arm across his shoulders.

"We both need to sleep, Kid. You rest first, I'll watch."

Spencer lay down next to Aaron again. It was getting dark, and Reid was glad of having Morgan with him.

"Wake me in a couple of hours, Derek, won't you."

Morgan nodded, and got the gun from his waist band again, and rested it on his lap. He looked across at Reid, who was already asleep, clutching hold of Hotch. Morgan put a hand on Aaron's forehead. He was still very hot. Soon the fever would break, or it would kill him. And there was nothing they could do to influence the outcome.

While they slept, Morgan searched the woods for two strong lengths of wood. They were going to have to carry Hotch now, and he thought they would be able to make a stretcher out of the blanket. He found some likely lengths of branch, and dragged them back to where the others were. He spent the remaining few hours of his watch pulling branches off them, getting them ready.

Reid was not sleeping well. He was having nightmares again. Morgan wanted to comfort him. He wanted to put his arms round him and take the pain and hurt away. He thought of him and Aaron, and wished it could be him. He rested his head in his hands, reflecting the pose Reid had taken earlier. Why was he having such a bad time? Why was he thinking these things now? It had never occurred to him before, and besides, Hotch was his friend and these thoughts were a betrayal. Aaron was in love with Spencer.

This was a bad time to live, and he wasn't thinking straight. Their only hope of survival was to keep their senses and to stay close.

He changed his train of thought. Really, if they wanted to get home, they should go back to the headland by Salem. If they were ever going to get home, it would be from there. They needed to go back to where they'd come from. In the morning, he would talk about it to Reid.

He went over and shook him awake. "Hey Kid, it's your turn."

Reid released his hold on Aaron and began to move away. Aaron moaned softly and tried to reach for him, but his arms were splinted, and wrapped to his sides to prevent movement. He started to cry out and call for Spencer, but he was delirious in fever, and was not aware that Reid was with him. Suddenly he screamed and cowered away from them, terrified tears pouring from his bruised and injured eyes. Spencer was getting upset, trying to calm him, but he was unable. Morgan drew him away.

"Hey, Kid. He can't hear you. It's the fever. He's hallucinating. You can't help him."

Morgan saw distressed tears on Spencer's cheeks. He resisted the urge to wipe them away. He released Reid from his grasp and turned from him. How could he even think of taking advantage of the situation? He looked down at Hotch, and the state he was in, and felt a wave of compassion and self disgust.

"Are you ok, Derek?" Spencer asked.

_Sweet innocent Spencer..._

"I'm fine. Just tired." Morgan answered. "I just need a few hours' sleep." He passed the gun to Reid, who sat against a tree, holding it in his hand.

Morgan lay next to Aaron, who was starting to breathe a bit more naturally, although he was still crying in his inner unshared fear. Morgan put his arm around him and was asleep almost immediately.

Reid tried to think logically about their situation. If they were ever going to get home, it would be on the headland road, above Salem. It seemed to him that their choices were, to travel west and make a life here, giving up all hope of returning home, and probably lose Aaron. Or they could risk being killed by the townsfolk of Salem, but have a chance of getting back. They would need to talk about it in the morning.

It was not long now until dawn. Reid watched Morgan and Aaron sleeping on the grass. Aaron was calmer now. He hoped that the fever would break soon. He hoped that Aaron was going to survive.

He sat back and waited for the dawn.


	16. Ale and Alterations

Chapter 16

Ale and Alterations

_**Eugene Ionesco said, "**__**There are more dead people than living. And their numbers are increasin**__**g. The **__**living are**__** getting rarer."**_

Rossi made his way to the tavern. There were few people about, and those that were hurried past him with their heads down, avoiding eye contact. He pushed open the tavern door, expecting to see a crowd of local people drinking, but the room was empty, apart from a miserable looking man behind a bar. He forced a smile, and approached him.

"Good afternoon, Sir. I would like to sample your best ale, if I may."

Wordlessly, the man poured a golden liquid into a tankard (which, Rossi noticed, was made of lead!) Rossi tasted it, and was pleasantly surprised.

"This ale is really very good." said Rossi. "I am surprised that there are not more people in here drinking it!"

"Where have you been, that you do not know what has happened to our town!" The man said. "A bad thing has befallen us, and the townsfolk will no longer come here."

"My name is David Rossi." He extended a hand. "I have been travelling in the north. Please enlighten me as to what has happened."

"We have had visitations from the Devil himself!" he said. "We had two witches that refused to plead for trial. Then a man and his slave arrived in town. The man was bewitched, and was brought here. His slave was imprisoned. Then this man had his slave released. In the night they returned and freed the two witches that were undergoing judicial punishment, and threatened to curse our crops and livestock if we followed them." The man filled Rossi's tankard again. "The townsfolk are terrified, and they will not come here, because the bewitched man stayed here."

"You truly have had a frightening time of it." Rossi said. "Where are these evildoers now?"

The man eyed Rossi with suspicion. "We do not know, nor do we wish to. We simply want to recover from the visitation." He paused, then looking Rossi in the eye, added, "Why are you so interested?"

"I collect stories on my travels." said Rossi. "One day I hope to write them down."

The man's look of suspicion faded. Rossi inwardly sighed with relief. These people were very scared.

"Do you have a room?"

The man looked very pleased. "We do have one, but it is the very one that the freer of the witches stayed in. Do you not fear it?"

"I do not fear it after it has left." said Rossi. "I would be happy to stay here and so prove to your townsfolk that there is nothing to fear once the creature has departed."

The man showed Rossi to the room where Reid had been sleeping. When Rossi was left alone, he lay back on the bed and tried to think of how he was going to find the profilers.

* * *

Spencer didn't wake Morgan up when the sun came up, but allowed him to sleep on. He got up and crossed to check on Aaron. Was it his imagination, or was he cooler today? Had the fever broken?

"Aaron, can you here me?" Spencer took his hand in both of his. "Please, Aaron Babe, if you can here me, squeeze my hand."

Aaron's breathing seemed to speed up when Spencer spoke to him, and yes, there was an almost indiscernible movement of his hand. Relief overwhelmed Spencer like a wave, washing away the fear that he had carried with him since seeing that dreadful image on the internet.

"Babe, you are going to get better. I promise you." He lay on the grass facing him, and kissed him gently. He rolled onto his back and smiled at the lightening sky. Something good, at last.

After about half an hour, when the sun was just above the horizon, Morgan woke up and stretched.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, smiling at Spencer. "That was a wonderful sleep!"

"Aaron's waking up." Reid said. "He squeezed my hand, and his breathing sped up when I talked to him."

"Oh that's good, Kid." Morgan said. "I've had an idea." He went and got the two lengths of tree that he had found. "If we attach the blanket to these, it will be easier to carry Hotch, and more comfortable for him."

"That's a good idea." Spencer said, and he carefully took the blanket off Aaron.

They sat for a few minutes, and tied the blanket securely onto the wood. While they worked, they discussed the next plan of action. They agreed that going back to Salem, although dangerous, was the only chance of them getting home. When they had finished, then they gently lifted Aaron and laid him on the stretcher. It was certainly easier to carry. With Morgan in the front, and Spencer following, they carried Aaron back the way he came.

As they walked, Aaron started to move. At first, Spencer thought it was the movement of the blanket, but soon he could see that it was Aaron moving, only a little, but he was waking up. He called for Morgan to stop.

They put the stretcher down, and rested, while Reid held Aaron's head on his lap, and spoke to him, stroking his hair and touching his face. He wasn't opening his eyes, but he was making little sounds in response to Spencer's touch. Aaron turned his head towards Spencer's voice, mouth slightly open, softly crying out to him.

Spencer held Aaron's face, tears of sheer relief falling onto Aaron's skin. Spencer had not allowed himself to believe that Aaron would recover, although contemplating a life without him was equally difficult to think about. But now! Now he could hope. Now he could think about a future.

"He's waking up, Morgan." Spencer said. "He's going to be ok!"

Morgan looked at Spencer's beaming face, and wished for a moment that he could be the reason for that joy. He watched the gentleness of Spencer's touch, and wished he would touch him like that.

Then he wondered why he was having these thoughts. He was heterosexual through and through. He had never wanted a man before. Why here? Now?

He wondered about the effect of the radiation.

"Spence, you know you said that the radiation cause aberrant behaviour?"

Reid looked up at him. "Yes."

"How could it affect a man? How would I know if I was being affected?"

"It's difficult to say, Derek. Are you having unusual thoughts?"

Morgan had absolutely no intention of telling Spencer about his uncharacteristic feelings. "No, not really. I just wondered."

Spencer eyed him suspiciously, but said nothing.

"As we get closer to Salem, you might have another convulsion, Kid. Be careful."

Spencer nodded. He was caressing Aaron's hair and stroking his face. Aaron was moaning softly.

"Shall we carry on?" Morgan was having difficulty coping. If they didn't get home, he wasn't sure how this would end.

"We're going to carry on now, Aaron." Spencer kissed Aaron lightly on the forehead. He stood, then bent down to pick up the stretcher. The two of them picked it up, and began walking again.

* * *

Rossi spent a reasonably comfortable night in the tavern. The ale probably allowed him to sleep more soundly than he would have otherwise done. He decided that the next day he would visit the market place, and maybe gather some more information on the escape. He had a breakfast of rather hard, but not unpleasant bread and home made cheese, and a pint or so of ale. That seemed to be all the had to drink, other than water, which he didn't really want to risk, once he saw where it was coming from. He still had water in his bag if he wanted some.

He wondered, not for the first time, how he was going to pay for the room. He asked the landlord, who was also the barman, if he could pay for it all together at the end of his stay. He didn't like to be cheating the man out of his money, but as things were, it was the best he could do.

He thanked the landlord, whose name he had learned, was Endeavour Williams, and went out for a walk around the town, and to find out what he could about where his contemporaries were.

He wandered the streets for an hour or so, and ended up in the market. It was mid morning, and the people were beginning to gather.

The square was noisy, as the traders called out their wares. Along both sides of the road, some families were setting up stalls to sell the things they had made or grown. There was an assortment of vegetables and summer fruits, apples, pears, small purple fruits he thought were plums. There was a stall selling bread, and one with home made dairy products, cheese, butter, cream. In the centre of the market was a wooden frame. There was rope hanging from it, and dark stains that looked as if they could be blood. As he stood looking, he sensed someone standing close to him.

"The escaped slave was being flogged there, when his owner turned up and claimed him."

Rossi turned to the woman who was standing beside him. "Oh, really? When was this?"

Before she could answer, there was a disturbance at the far end of the road which ran through the market. A young lad of about ten years was running through the people, shouting that he needed to get to the town Magistrate.

"I need to find Magistrate Hathorne!" he shouted. "They are coming back! They are coming back! "

One of the stall holders caught hold of the child. "Who's coming back, son? Who?"

"It's the one who escaped the pressing! The stranger, and the one who rescued him, and the black slave who threatened the town! They are on the back road! I was watching for Magistrate Hathorne. And he was right! The witches are coming back!"


	17. Salem Again

Chapter 17

Salem Again

_**Richard K. Straker said, "The master wants you. Throw away your cross, face the master. Your faith against his faith... Could you do that? Is your faith enough**** Then do it... Throw away the cross. Face the master. Faith against faith!" (Salem's Lot)**_

"Morgan? Stop a minute! Did you hear that?" They stopped walking, and stood still, listening.

"There's someone in the trees, Spencer." said Morgan. "Put down the stretcher. I think we're being followed."

They slowly bent down, and lowered Aaron to the ground. That was when the men hiding in the surrounding woods attacked. Spencer crouched over Aaron in an attempt to protect him. Their attackers threw rocks at them, Morgan was hit on the side of the head and went down onto his hands and knees. He out a hand to the bleeding wound, and tried to stand. A second caught him in the centre of the forehead. This time he didn't get up.

Spencer held Aaron, but he wanted to help Morgan. He was suddenly overcome with confusion, when the seizure hit again. He knew it was going to happen, but he had no control. A rock hit him in the back, and he arched backwards, away from Aaron. As he lost awareness, he heard the men shriek with fear. His teeth clamped down on his tongue again, and blood burst from his mouth. His body stiffened and shook, and his attackers watched in fear. They watched as his eyes rolled upwards, and his arms were thrown outwards. His neck bent at an impossible angle, as the convulsion tore through him. Then as suddenly as it had begun, it was over and Spencer lay still on the ground.

Nervously, hesitantly, the men from the town advanced on the three fallen men. Morgan was groaning, trying to get up. Spencer didn't move. Aaron let out a soft moan, and he tried to open his eyes.

"Don't let him wake up!" shouted one of the townsmen. "They can't hurt us if they are unconscious!"

Two of the men dealt with Morgan. They pulled him upright, then hit him with a heavy branch. He hung in their arms, eyes closed, blood running from his nose and mouth.

Two men dragged Aaron to his feet and he was punched in the face.

Spencer was still not moving.

* * *

The crowd cheered and applauded as the captives were dragged back into town.

Rossi waited in the crowd in the market square, which he had just discovered, doubled as a place of execution. Magistrate Hathorne stood on a raised area and addressed the crowd.

"My fellow citizens, the three escaped witches have been caught." He waited while the crowd cheered and shouted. "They are all three beaten into submission (more cheering) and are not able to bewitch us now." He held his hands in the air to ask for quiet. The crowd hushed, as Hathorne stated the judgement.

"It is the judgement of this council, that the witches should be burnt to death in this square, thus sending to hell these Devil's spawn! They will be tied to the stakes and left through the night. Punishment will be meted at first light. These creatures will not be allowed to harass the living any more!"

The crowd went mad with excitement. Rossi felt sick.

Men and women were rushing about collecting wood and kindling, the fire being built up around three upright stakes in the centre of the square.

The men who had been sent out to overcome and capture the threat to the town were returning. One at a time that brought their captives in view of the townsfolk.

Morgan was brought up first. Rossi could see that he was unconscious. He had a wound on his right temple, and across his forehead. Blood was running from his nose and mouth. His body was slumped between the two men holding him. He was tied to one of the stakes in the centre of the pile of brushwood, his hands behind him, around the stake.

Aaron was brought out next. Rossi could not see his face, his head was forward. But he could see blood dripping from his face onto the ground. He was only wearing underclothes, and his whole body was bloody and bruised. The top of his head, in his thick dark hair, Rossi could see dried blood and dirt. His back had been dressed, but wetness had soaked through. His skin was deathly pale. One of the men holding him grabbed his hair and raised his head, so that the crowd could see his battered face. The crowd roared its approval. Aaron was tied upright to the second stake. His arms were splinted and bandaged to his side. So the captors tied him around his neck and chest. Rossi felt a knot of fear in his stomach that showed no signs of dissipating.

Spencer was now dragged into the square. Again, he hung inert between two men, His hair hung down over his face, but Rossi could see blood under his nose, and running from his mouth. A gash cross his cheek was bleeding. As Rossi watched, Spencer was suddenly sick, vomiting onto the ground in front of him. Rossi could see his slender body twist and heave as he emptied his already empty stomach. He coughed and choked, trying to lift his head. Someone behind him struck the back of his head with a rock. Rossi heard the crack from where he was standing, and he saw blood spray as his head jerked forward again, and the crowd exploded with excitement. He was tied to the third stake.

Rossi was horror struck. He saw three of his men, beaten and hurt, covered in blood, about to be burnt at the stake. This was going to happen at first light right in front of him. He had to free them during the night, get them away, and hide until two thirty the next afternoon.

How the hell am I going to do that? I have one gun, and a knife. What the hell am I going to do?

The crowd soon lost interest in the three men. They weren't doing anything, just hanging there from the wooden stakes on which they were destined to die. They would be back the next day to watch the burning, but for now there was nothing to see. One by one, the townsfolk wandered off, and Rossi walked away too, not wishing to call attention to himself. He sat on a bench at the edge of the square where he could still see them, but far enough away not to look suspicious. He made a show of taking an interest in a nearby dairy farmer's stall, but all the time, watching his friends.

Morgan was the first to show signs of life. Rossi saw a movement as he lifted his head and looked around. Rossi left the bench and wandered over to him. He managed to catch Morgan's eye. He saw the amazement register, Rossi shook his head slightly, and closed his eyes, and dropped his head forward. Morgan understood, and faked unconsciousness.

Rossi walked back through the crowds pretending to look at the stalls, keeping half an eye on the profilers. So Morgan was awake. That was good. He and Morgan could get Hotchner and Reid out between them. During the night, a couple of hours after midnight, was the time when they were least likely to be seen. He would free Morgan first, then the other two. As they fled, he would set the wood alight. Hopefully they would not realise they were gone until it was too late.

* * *

He stayed in the market until evening, then made his way back to the tavern. He needed to get hold of a tinder box, to set the fir going. When he arrived back at the tavern, Endeavour was lighting the candles. Rossi watched how he used the tinder box, and where he put it afterwards. He ordered some bread and home cured bacon, with the obligatory ale, and sat in a corner to plan the escape.

Later that night, Rossi crept out of his room, and went into the bar. The tinder box was where Endeavour had left it. He took it, and went back to his room with it. He needed to practice using it, before he relied on it. He sat in his room, and struck the flint, He was pleased to see that he obtained a spark straight away. He put the box in his bag, the gun in his belt, and left the room.

Very quietly, he made for the door, and went out onto the street. Everywhere was in darkness, no lights on in the houses. Rossi carefully picked his way back to the square. He climbed up the pile of wood and kindling, to reach Morgan.

"Hey, Morgan!" he whispered. "Are you awake?"

"Yeah. Rossi, how did you..."

"Shh. I'll get you out of here first." Rossi held the water container up to Morgan's lips. Morgan sucked at the water gratefully.

Rossi quickly cut through the ropes around Morgan's wrists. Then he and Morgan went to the others. Morgan held Reid while Rossi cut the ropes. Spencer fell against Morgan, who held him tightly. Then Rossi stood in front of Aaron and freed him. The rope around his neck left a burn on his skin. Rossi could not feel any movement in him. He had a horrible feeling that the rope may have asphyxiated him as he hung from the stake. He lifted him from the ground and carried him away from the execution site. He laid him down and ran back to light the fire. He kicked the kindling so that the resulting fire would spread. He needed all the citizens to be working at stopping the town from burning down. He bent down and lit the fire.

Now, all they had to do was run.


	18. Survivors

Chapter 18

Survivors

_**Journalist Eve **__**LaPlante**__** wrote, "Epilepsy has laid claim to so many brilliant people that there are some who believe epilepsy may be connected to genius."**_

Rossi ran back to Aaron and picked him up. He followed Morgan who had gone into the trees carrying Spencer. Rossi pushed branches out of the way, frantic to put as much distance between him and the town as possible before the alarm was raised. He needed to put Hotch down and check him over. He didn't think he was breathing.

"Come on, Aaron! Don't you dare die on me now!"

He carried on running, no sign of Morgan, but that was not necessarily a bad thing. They would find each other later, when it wasn't so dangerous.

Rossi knelt down, and laid Aaron next to him. He felt for a pulse, but couldn't find one. He listened to his chest. Although he didn't appear to be breathing, there was a heart beat, albeit faint. He began mouth to mouth, afraid to do chest compressions on a man who probably already had a collapsed lung and several broken ribs.

"Breathe now!" He wanted to shout at Aaron, "Work! Damn you, Hotchner, breathe!"

Rossi sat back on his haunches when at last Aaron sucked in a shallow juddering breath. Rossi wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, and stood up again. He had been still for long enough. In the background he could hear the shouting as the alarm was raised, and the town's people were woken from sleep to tackle the fire. He could see the flickering of the fire through the trees. Bending down, he lifted Aaron again, and carried on his flight through the trees

* * *

Morgan was some way ahead of Rossi, wishing that he was carrying Aaron and not Spence. The closeness of his body, helpless in his arms, was getting to him, and making him think things he would rather not be thinking.

_Oh Spencer, stop it! I can't understand what's happening, but I do know it's you, Spencer, making me feel like this. _

He stopped running, and sat by a tree, holding Spence on his lap, against his chest. He ran his fingers through Spencer's hair, and brushed his broken lips with the back of his fingers. Looking down at his sleeping face, he felt a surge of hatred towards Aaron, for having this man when he wanted him.

Shocked, he pushed Spencer away, disgusted with himself.

_I__'m not dealing with this very well. This is not me! I do not feel these things!_

"Wake up, Kid, it's time to wake up!" Morgan shook him, and after a few seconds, Spencer tried to open his eyes.

"Spence, we have to run now. Can you stand?"

"Help me up, Derek, I'll be ok." Spencer touched the back of his head and felt the blood there. He very carefully touched his broken nose, a little moan escaping his lips as his fingers made contact.

"Ow! That wasn't a g-good idea." he said, and he put out his hand to be helped up. Morgan's hand was shaking as he took hold of Spencer's. He didn't want to touch him at all. He felt the chemistry attack him like sodium in water. As soon as Reid was on his feet, Morgan snatched his hand away.

"What's the matter?" said Spencer. He tilted his head coyly. Morgan said,

"We have to keep moving, the townsfolk will be after us.

Morgan backed away from Reid on shaking legs. Then he turned and ran.

Reid followed, confused.

"Wait, Derek! What's your problem?"

Morgan stopped up ahead, and turned to face him. He held his hands up.

"Look, Reid, I don't know what's going on here, but keep away from me!" Morgan backed against a tree. Reid continued forwards. Morgan stared at him in confusion. Reid put his hand on the tree beside Morgan's face.

"Come on, Derek, tell me what's wrong!" Reid touched Morgan's cheek.

Morgan jumped as if he had been given an electric shock. He took Reid's wrists, and pushed him away. "You know what's wrong! But I will not betray Hotch!"He slid around the tree. "Don't come near me. Stay away!"

Morgan pressed his hands into his eyes. "I don't understand what's happening to me!"

That brief moment while his eyes were not on him, Reid reached out and touched him again. Morgan slapped his face as hard as he could. Reid stepped back, his hand on the reddening mark on his cheek, blood starting to flow again from the gash.

"Why did you do that?"

"You really don't know?" Morgan was angry. "I said don't touch me."

He pushed Reid in front. Reid was totally confused. What on earth was wrong with Derek?

"You go first where I can see what you are doing! We have to find Rossi."

Spencer turned round. "Rossi? He's here?"

"Yes, and Hotch is with him. Now walk!"

Reid was confused. Had he misread the signs? Was Derek leading him on?

"Derek, I'm..." Spencer was cut off mid sentence as electrical impulses in his brain went mad again. With a little shriek, he fell backwards. Morgan caught him before he hit the ground. He lowered him carefully and knelt by him, and waited for the convulsion ended, hoping that this was temporary.

"Oh god, Reid." He rocked back onto his heels, hands covering his face. Morgan was lost. He had no idea how to cope or what to do. "Where the hell are you, Rossi?"

"Right here!"

Morgan turned at the sound of Rossi's voice. He stood there with Aaron in his arms, looking exhausted.

"Am I glad to see you?"

"Pick him up, Morgan. We have to be somewhere by sun up. We cannot travel in the daylight. It is too dangerous"

Morgan was ready to take orders. He picked Spencer up, resting his head on his shoulder. He followed Rossi deeper into the woods. Already the sky was lightening in the east, as the sun began its journey. Morgan caught up with Rossi, trying to ignore the pheromone triggered emotions that were flooding him.

"You have a way to get us home?"

"The wormhole is opening up at two thirty tomorrow afternoon, or rather, today, in the same place where I came down." he said. "I don't know how easy it will be to get through, but it is our only and last chance."

"Aaron? Is he ok?" Morgan asked, looking at the badly injured man in Rossi's arms.

"I don't know. I got him breathing a while back, but I don't know if he still is."

"Shouldn't we stop and check him out?"

"We must keep moving, Morgan, or we'll all die here. We have got only one chance."

Morgan felt Reid move.

"Hey Kid," Morgan said shakily. "Are you ready to walk?"

"Yeah." Reid said, equally shakily. "You can put me down."

"It's not far now," said Rossi. "Just along there I marked the tree. We can wait it out here, until it's time."

Rossi lay Aaron down, and sat beside him with evident relief. He sighed heavily and lay back on the thin grass.

Spencer crawled across to Aaron.

"Oh no, Aaron! My Aaron! Oh no no no!" Spencer knelt by him and cradled his head. "Please, Babe, you have to make it."

He looked at Morgan with tear filled eyes. Morgan nodded ever so slightly, and turned away. There were no feelings there. Now Spence was with Aaron, nothing could get in the way.

Spencer rocked Aaron as he spoke to him. "Please, Babe, if you can, open your eyes. I need to see your eyes again, Babe." Reid was crying for him, wanting him, needing him, to open his eyes and show that spark of vitality that he loved so much

"Come on, Aaron...please, for me..."

Spencer held his breath as Aaron's eye lashes fluttered open, and he looked into his dark eyes. The windows of his soul. Aaron struggled to focus, and at last he looked into Reid's hazel eyes. For a moment, only they existed. Then Aaron tried to move his hands. He let out a cry, and a look of fear crossed his face.

"I c-can't...can't move..."

"It's ok, Babe. You arms are splinted. They are broken. But it's ok. You're going to be ok."

He pulled Aaron against his chest and with one hand in his hair and the other around his back, he rocked him gently.

The sun came up and warmed the earth.


	19. Against the Tide

Chapter 19

Against the Tide

_**Eric **__**Cartman**__** often said, "Screw you guys...I'm going home."**_

Rossi slept on the grass, exhausted after carrying Aaron up the hill. Morgan sat unmoving, staring into space, confused thoughts racing through his mind. He faced away from Spencer as he held Aaron, and rocked him. Aaron's eyes were closed now, he was pressing against Spencer's chest, loving the closeness of the man whom he adored. Spencer's hands did not move from him, gently stroking and caressing him, loving him in return. neither spoke, their feelings communicating through their heartbeats.

The sun was high in the sky when Morgan shook Rossi awake.

"David, I think the time is coming soon. Where do we have to wait?"

Rossi's eyes snapped open. He climbed to his feet, refreshed by the few hours he had slept. He took the gun from his belt, and Morgan took his. He gave the other one to Spencer.

"Keep yourselves armed." said Rossi. "We can't afford for anything to go wrong now. We are almost home." He led the others through the trees toward the road, Morgan and Reid carrying Aaron between them. Rossi stopped by a tree, and pointed to a cross cut deeply into the bark.

"This is where I came through." he said. "It may be harder to get back, though. I felt as if I was sucked through to here. This end of the wormhole does not appear to have the same negative force."

"So we may have to push our way in." said Spencer.

"Yes. It may not be possible. We need to be prepared."

The sun was moving across the sky. Of course, they didn't know the accurate time, or even if two thirty here corresponded with two thirty at home. The chances were, it wouldn't be exactly the same. All they could do was wait.

The four men were at the edge of the road, watching for any signs that the wormhole was going to open. Aaron was sitting leaning on a tree, the others in front of him, holding their weapons.

They heard the approaching crowd before they saw it.

Angry shouting echoed up the hill from the town. They watched the road fearfully. They couldn't leave or hide, in case they missed the vortex. They just had to hold out a little longer.

The angry crowd became visible at the bend in the road. Leading them were the town Magistrates, Hathorne and Corwin. Behind them was Reverend Parris, followed by about a hundred men of the town. They stopped advancing and the crowd became silent. The three agents stood their ground.

"Since your arrival at our town, you have caused untold fear and misery!" Hathorne shouted. "We were once inclined to let you go, but now, after consulting with the council, we have decreed that you must die, to keep you from retuning, or bringing such terror onto other innocent villagers. We," He indicated the people behind him, "Have come now to carry out the sentence."

Rossi turned to his men. "If you need to shoot, shoot to incapacitate, not to kill."

Suddenly the crowd surged forward. The three agents began firing. The first few shots went over the heads of the enraged crowd, but it didn't seem to even make them hesitate. Rossi aimed, and shot one man in the leg. He screamed and fell. This time, they did hesitate, but only momentarily.

Parris cried out, "It's witchcraft that they use. They must be killed! We need to save out children!"

Shooting was not going to stop them. Rossi shouted "Run!" above the clamour of the crowd. But neither Reid nor Morgan moved. If they ran, it would be certain death for Aaron.

Then everything seemed to happen at once.

Spencer arched backwards, torn apart again by the convulsions that were gripping him. His gun flew from his hand, and once again his fragile body was seized by invisible hands, shaking and throwing him to the ground. He cried out in his distress as he was controlled by unseen forces.

The vortex opened behind them, throwing debris and stones from two thousand and eight into the air around them.

And the Crowd rushed them.

Rossi fired his gun again, low into the crowd. "Get Aaron through, Morgan!" he yelled, as he moved to stand in front of Reid. Reid rolled onto his side, moaning softly as the fit eased. Blood was running from his lips again. Someone in the crowd threw a rock that caught Rossi in the chest as he fired the gun. He saw someone fall with a hole above his heart, but he had no time to think about it. Before he could fire again, someone with a knife leaped at him, and Rossi went down under the man's weight. The man lifted his hand. Rossi saw the sun glint on the knife in the man's hand as he brought it down into Rossi's chest. He gasped in pain and rolled away from him.

Morgan had dragged Aaron to the vortex. Rossi had been right, he had to push against the force. Aaron was standing, leaning on Morgan.

"I won't go without you!" Aaron yelled above the rushing sound.

"Yes! You will!" Morgan pushed him as hard as he could, and Aaron fell forwards into the howling whirlpool.

Morgan turned back in time to see Rossi disappear beneath one of the townspeople. He heard him yelp as the knife cut into his chest. Then he saw someone dragging Reid into the trees.

The man had Reid by the hair, and Reid wasn't struggling as he was pulled away. Morgan raised his gun and fired into the man's leg. He dropped to the ground, and Morgan pulled the still trembling unconscious man from his grasp. He pulled him to the vortex, and threw him the same way as Aaron.

Then he went back to help Rossi.

Rossi was weakening under the onslaught. The man with the knife was raising it for another attack on him, as he lay on his back being held by two others. Someone rushed at Morgan with a club. Morgan let off two rounds in quick succession. One hit the knife wielding man sitting astride Rossi. The second took down the man that was rushing him.

The man on Rossi fell sideways, and Morgan pulled him away from the scrum attacking him. Still dragging Rossi, Morgan walked backwards towards the vortex, stopping to slip his gun into his waistband, and to retrieve the one that Spencer had dropped. He held it out in front of him. "Anyone else want a taste?" he shouted, feeling Rossi's blood run across his arm that he held around Rossi's chest. "Another step and someone dies."

Morgan felt the pressure of the vortex behind him, and at the last possible moment, he turned and jumped.


	20. Helicopter Ride

Chapter 20

Helicopter Ride

_**Helen Keller said, "**__**With every friend I love who has been taken into the brown bosom of the earth a part of me has been buried there; but their contribution to my being of happiness, strength and understanding remains to sustain me in an altered world."**__****_

Garcia had been on the coast path since one thirty. She had sat at first, but then she started pacing, and now she couldn't stop. Just behind her, two Air Ambulances were waiting. She had had difficulty convincing then to come.

"Do you know how much it costs, just to get one of these machines off the ground, and you are telling me that you don't even know if there are any casualties yet!"

She ended up by saying there were FBI manoeuvres being run on the coast, and it was essential that they be there. She even had to sign something to say she would be prepared to pay costs, should this be a wild goose chase, so she signed her life away, hoping that if they claimed, she would be able to claim off the BAU.

She looked at her watch. Almost time. She heard a rushing sound, and she looked in the direction it was coming from, and she saw a strange patch of choppy water. As she watched, it moved inland, across the beach, and up the dune towards her. She went and stood behind a tree, (The same tree that Aaron had been hanging onto.) and watched as it got closer.

The next few minutes would tell if the BAU still existed.

Stones and other debris flew past her into the forming vortex.

Suddenly, Hotch was on the grass in front of her. She had read about his murder, and seen pictures. But he was here. He was covered in dirt and dried blood. His face was bore the signs of having been beaten, his arms were splinted. Her hand went to her mouth.

"Oh..." was all she could say. Before she could recover, Spencer fell out from the vortex, and rolled a few feet, ending upon his back beside Hotch. His face was cut and fresh blood was running from the wound, he was bleeding from his mouth. As she watched, he turned around to Hotch and put his arms around him. He held his almost naked body tightly to himself, protecting him against the rushing of the air. Seconds later, Morgan came through. He almost managed to keep to his feet, but he fell at the last minute. He was holding Rossi against him, blood pumping from a chest wound.

Then the howling stopped, and stones and twigs rained down on them. The vortex vanished.

It felt like a long time before anyone moved. Then she heard the paramedics behind her shouting to each other, as they rushed forwards.

Garcia went to Hotch. Spencer was still hanging onto him, the paramedics having to pry his hands off Aaron's body.

Aaron had stopped breathing again, and he was intubated and ventilated. His heart was beating, but his pulse was thready. He was put on a stretcher and taken to the helicopter.

Reid was moaning and tearful. Garcia held his hand while the paramedics checked him over. Broken ribs and concussion, and cuts. A badly bitten tongue told the paramedics that he had been having convulsions. They helped him to walk to the helicopter, and he sat inside, holding Aaron's hand. He felt disoriented, confused, but he knew he was with Aaron, and he knew he loved him. And that was enough for now. He bent forward and kissed his cheek. It felt rough under his lips, rough from a few days growth, and rough from the beatings he had received. Spencer's tears fell onto Aaron's skin.

_You are home now, Babe. You are home and safe. I'm here with you, sweetheart, and I won't leave you..._

He felt a movement of Aaron's hand, and his heart sang.

As their helicopter lifted off, the paramedics were trying to save Rossi. The knife had nicked the aorta, and he was losing too much blood. Morgan was frantic. Garcia stood beside him, reaching for his hand.

"You have to save him!" he shouted. "He's only hurt because he came back for us!"

One of the paramedics, a pretty red haired girl who looked too young to be out of school, led him away from Rossi, and over to the remaining helicopter. Garcia watched as she helped him into the ambulance.

"Leave them to do their work, Derek. They know what they are doing!"

"I know. It's just that he was fine until just before he came back. Then he got stabbed. And he was only there getting us home!"

At that moment, Rossi was carried into the ambulance, and the door closed. Morgan sat beside him, his head in his hands. Yes, they were all back, but two of his colleagues were still in serious danger. He turned and looked out of the window as Garcia walked back to her 4x4. He wanted to be with her.

He thought of Spencer and how he felt about him, and all the crazy feelings that had been messing with his mind. Did he still feel that way about Reid?

He brought an image of him up in front of his eyes. What was he feeling now?

He wasn't sure. Imagining him with Aaron formed a little knot of jealousy in the pit of his stomach, but he pretended it wasn't there. Maybe the feeling would wear off. He hated it, and hoped it would. He never wanted to be in competition with Hotch for Spencer. The thought was just too bizarre to contemplate!

He looked over to where the 'medics were working on Rossi.

"Is he going to be ok?" he asked. Dave was extraordinarily pale, and from where Morgan sat, he didn't seem to be responding.

"He's got an internal bleed, a nicked aorta. We need to get him to the emergency room asap."

"He's not going to get to the hospital. Call Doctor Geiger. See what he says."

The girl with the red hair called the cardiothoracic doctor. As soon as he answered, she gave the phone to her colleague. He listened, then gave the phone back to the girl.

"I've got to clamp the aorta." he said, his voice just a little trembly. "Geiger is going to talk me through it."

Quickly he scrubbed, and following the doctors instructions, the 'medic cut through Rossi's chest. The tension in the helicopter was palpable as the man silently carried out his instructions. Morgan realised he had been holding his breath. The 'medic put the clamp on Rossi's bleeding aorta. He sat back and closed his eyes. The girl put a temporary dressing on the wound. Morgan moved to be beside Rossi.

"You're going to be fine, Dave." said Morgan, hoping that was true.

The ambulance came in to land next to the one that had housed Spencer and Aaron. Geiger and his colleagues ran out to meet them.

* * *

Spencer sat with Aaron in the other helicopter, and Aaron was in a very bad way. The paramedics moved Spencer out of their way where he couldn't touch him, and most of the time, couldn't even see him. The 'medics were just trying to keep him alive. He was breathing with only one lung, and he was struggling with that. His throat had been damaged and his breaths were coming in harsh wheezes, even with the tube in place. Spencer could hear him fighting to stay alive, Spencer's heart was breaking.

"What's happened to this guy?" one of the 'medics asked rhetorically. "I've not seen anyone so beaten up as this and still determined to live!"

"He's in Vfib!"

"Ready the paddles!"

"Charge 250!"

"Charging!"

"Clear!"

Spencer's own heart was in his mouth as he saw Aaron's body jerk from the table.

_Come on, Aaron! Come back! Your time's not up yet, we've so much more to do_

"Nothing! Charge 300!"

"Charging!"

"Clear!"

Again, Aaron's beaten and broken body jerked off the table. Spencer held his breath along with the 'medics. He looked down at his hands, shaking in his lap.

_Aaron...I need you!_

"Sinus restored. He's back! We've got him!"

Spencer put his face in his hands. He felt his tears flow silently from closed lids.

The helicopter touched down at Salem Hospital. As soon as the doors opened, Aaron was rushed out to the waiting doctors, and through the doors to rescus. Spencer followed, helped by one of the 'medics. He followed the group of doctors, and was shown to a cubicle.

"Someone will see you in a moment." a nurse informed him.

He didn't want to be seen. He wanted to be with Aaron. He was still shaking from what had happened in the ambulance. Spencer was breathing shakily, trying to ward off a panic attack when a nurse came in to check him over.

"Can you tell me how Aaron Hotchner is? He's the one who came with me in the helicopter."

"He's still in rescus. There's no news yet. Let's take a look at that cut on your face." she said, tilting his face towards hers with a finger under the chin. She smiled at him. "We'll soon have that sorted." she said. "I won't stitch it, I'll use clips. You won't want it to scar." although her personal thoughts were that a scar on such a pretty face would be rather special.

Gently she cleaned the blood off Spencer's face, and applied the clips. Then she checked over the rest of his body.

"Couple of cracked ribs, and a broken nose." she informed him. "We don't do anything for the ribs, but we can help the nose." (She fought the temptation to kiss it better.) "I'll get a doctor to come and check."

She gave Spencer another smile, and left. A minute or so later, she came back with a doctor.

"Hello, Dr. Reid. I've come to check out your nose. The nurse informs me it could need surgery."

He bent and looked at Spencer's nose. "Hmmm. It looks a bit bent. I could straighten it with a local anaesthetic here in the emergency room if you wish. It will be quicker than waiting for an OR to be free. But it is not a pleasant experience. It's up to you?"

"Do it here. I'll be fine." Spencer replied.

"Ok, I'll let the nurse anaesthetise you, and I'll be back in a moment."

"Lay down, please, Dr Reid." She got the syringe ready. "Now hold still."


	21. Fixing

Chapter 21

Fixing

_**S**__**lowly it wanders,--pauses,--cre**__**eps,  
--**__**Anon it sparkles,--flashes and leaps**____**  
And ever as onward it gleaming goes**__**  
A light on the Bong-tree stems it throws.**__**  
And those who watch at that midnight hour**__**  
From Hall or Terrace, or lofty Tower**____**  
Cry, as the wild light passes along,--**__**  
'The Dong!**__** The Dong!  
The wandering Dong through the forest goes!**____**  
The Dong!**____**the**__** Dong!**____**  
The Dong with a luminous Nose!'**_

_______________**(Edward Lear)**_

Aaron was in surgery for a long time. The punctured and collapsed lung needed urgent treatment, his crushed chest and many broken and displaced ribs needed attention. The skin on his back needed a graft, but the area to be covered was too great for Aaron's own skin to be used. The surgeon removed the extensively damaged skin from Aaron's back and applied artificial temporary skin made of collagen and semipermeable silicon foil, and a Vacuum assisted closure on the site, ready for a cell cultured epithelial autograft .

Both his arms were broken, and the bones displaced. The orthopaedic surgeon plated and screwed the bones. His wrist needed an operation to realign the breaks, some of the small carpel bones were shattered, and it was not certain whether he would ever regain full use of his hand.

Aaron had a fractured skull, which also needed plating. There was a lot of tissue damage to his feet, and infected skin needed to be incised.

When at last Aaron was put back together, and the skin culture was begun, he was taken to recovery.

Had Spencer been awake, likely he would have asked to be with him. As it was...

* * *

"Lay down, please, Dr Reid. Now hold still." 

Spencer gaped at the syringe, and belatedly screwed his eyes closed. He ought not have looked at the syringe, but the damage was done. He sat up quickly and threw up onto the floor. The nurse's lips shrunk into a small hard line.

"It's only an injection!" she berated him. "Be a brave boy for nursey!"

Reid glared at her in annoyance, and laid back down, allowing her to anaesthetise his nose. It felt very strange, but at least it didn't hurt now. The doctor entered, and smiled at him, noticed the puddle on the floor, and stopped smiling.

"Are you ready?"

Spencer nodded uncertainly. For this, he would not ever be ready!

The doctor put a speculum up Spencer's nose, and cranked open his nostrils. Spencer pulled himself backwards onto the bed. Then the doctor showed Spencer the forceps and the Boies elevator.

Spencer whimpered, his eyes huge and round.

"We use these to re-align the bones and cartilage." the doctor said, and stuck them up Spencer's little nose.

Spencer fainted.

* * *

The paramedic had saved Rossi's life. Under normal circumstances, a paramedic would not have carried out the aortic clamp procedure, but with Geiger running the show, anything could happen. 

Dave was rushed into the OR and Dr Geiger repaired the aorta with little problem. Rossi though had lost a lot of blood. The pool of blood in his chest cavity was redirected into his system by means of a cell salvage machine, and plasma expanders were utilised while his body replaced the lost cells. Geiger left the OR happily – another life saved by the cardiothoracic God!

* * *

Morgan lay on his front in the ER, as his back was stitched up. The nurse cleaned the blood away so she could see the wounds, about twenty deep parallel cuts across his back. She offered him anaesthetic, which he refused. She answered him that it was not brave, but stupid to refuse it, so he agreed. 

He was glad he did in the end. Even with anaesthetic, it hurt. When she had finished, she stuck a huge Melonin patch on his back.

"Ok, you're done!" she said with a smile. "You can wait in the waiting room, or sit with your friend Dr Reid. You have a visitor, too. Penny Garcia?"

The nurse called Garcia into the cubical. She gave Morgan a huge happy smile. They followed the nurse to Spencer's little cubical. He was lying back with his nose stuffed with padding, looking very white.

Morgan had to repress a grin when he saw Spencer's big purple nose.

"What happened to his pretty face?" he asked the nurse with a smirk.

"It's not permanent." she laughed. "The padding can come out in three days, and when the swelling and bruising goes down, it will be as good as new."

"Did he have a general anaesthetic?"

"No! He fainted."

Morgan snorted and sat beside Reid, and took his hand. Even with a nose like the Dong of Luminous Nose fame, he was still cute. Gently he brushed his long hair from his face, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than he needed to on Spencer's face.

_"You really are pretty." Morgan thought."Fragile, effete, and very pretty!"Fainting just seemed to add to the picture._

Garcia's presence stopped him from kissing him.

He squeezed Reid's hand. "Wakey wakey, pretty boy!"

Spencer groaned and carefully opened his eyes.

"Hello, Borgad, Garcie." His hand went to his nose. "Whad have they dud to by dose?"

"They've reset it. They will take out the padding in three days."

"Can you find out how Aarod is? I really need to see hib."

Morgan nodded and left Spencer with Garcia while he went to find out about Aaron and Rossi.

They were both in recovery. Soon they would be on the ward and Morgan Reid and Garcia would be allowed to visit them.

* * *

Aaron slowly awoke. He was lying on his front, his arms outstretched and bandaged to boards an IV drip going into each. He wanted to check his head, but his arms were incapacitated. He tried to call for a nurse, and then he realised that he had a tube down his throat. His chest hurt when he breathed, and his back was sore and painful. 

He couldn't call a nurse, so he made a noise.

He felt a hand on his arm. He couldn't turn to look at the owner of the hand, as his head was to the side, the tube making it impossible for him to move. She crossed to the other side and sat down so that she was level with him.

"Hello, Aaron. You are in recovery. The surgeons have fixed your fractured skull, and your arms are plated. You are going to need skin grafts on your back, and they have covered the injury with a temporary artificial skin. Your lung is fixed, and your ribs are back in place. The doctor will be with you shortly. Close your eyes now and rest."

Aaron wanted to ask about the others, but he couldn't make himself understood. So he closed his eyes and drifted off into that soft velvety world called unconsciousness.

* * *

When Rossi woke up, he was on the ward. His chest hurt, and there was a drip in each wrist. He looked for a bell, and called the nurse. 

"You're fine, David. It was touch and go there for a bit, but Doctor Geiger fixed you."

"My colleagues?" Rossi said. "Ow that hurts!"

"You have stitches in your chest. The Doctor had to repair your aorta. Talking will hurt for a few days. Three of your friends are waiting outside to see you. The other..." She referred to the chart. "Aaron Hotchner, is in recovery. I'll get your friends."

She left the ward, and told Morgan, Garcia and Reid they could go in.

"Five minutes. He needs to rest."

Spencer, Garcia and Morgan went in to Rossi's room. Spencer had his hand over his face.

"Thanks, Dave." said Morgan. "Thanks for coming to get us."

Rossi smiled. "I suppose you want your jobs back now."


	22. Rossi Shows Himself

Chapter 22

Rossi Shows Himself

**Washington Irving said, "****Love is never lost. If not reciprocated, it will flow back and soften and**_** purify the heart."**_

Rossi was doing great. Bed rest while his aorta healed, and the doctors thought he'd be out in a few days. They just had to keep an eye on his blood pressure, and make sure he took the aspirin to prevent clots. But the doctors weren't worried. Well, Jeffrey Geiger wasn't.

Morgan was fine too. His back was healing nicely, and although there would be some scarring, Garcia assured him that it made him interesting.

Reid, who spent most of his time with his hand over his nose, had not had any more seizures. The doctors agreed that it was likely caused by the residual radiation, although Reid did not say where the radiation came from, just that it was during the course of his work.

Aaron, the doctors had put on Pentabarbitol therapy, to keep him under. Each day, that brought him round to let him know that he was doing fine. Spencer didn't move from his side.

On the third day, the same day that Rossi was discharged, on the condition that he rested at home, Spencer's nose was unpacked.

He lay on a table in the out patients department. Carefully, the packing was removed and Reid yelped as the packing was pulled away together with a million tiny nose hairs. His eyes streamed with tears, but he could now breath through his nose again.

"Stay in the waiting room for a while," the doctor said, "Just to ensure that it doesn't start to bleed. If it's ok after half an hour, you can go." He handed Reid a small pamphlet entitled:

'Nasal Fractures (rhinoplasty) Aftercare'

"I want to see you in two weeks, just to check it's healed alright. Make an appointment on your way out." Just as he left, the doctor turned and said, "It might look a bit strange at first. But I promise, it will go back to normal in a few days."

Reid sat in the waiting area, practicing nose breathing. The air felt cold, and his nose felt huge. He went to the washroom to check how it looked.

Red, with massive nostrils. Any bigger, and it would look as if he had sunglasses on. Ah well, he still needed his hand on his face!

He checked his watch. It was time for Aaron to be brought round again. He hurried back up to the ward, meeting Aaron's doctor in the lift.

"How long before you let him wake up?" asked Spence.

"The new skin takes three weeks to grow." he explained. "The artificial skin that's in place at the moment is very fragile, and can be easily damaged. It's going to be another two weeks at least, until it's ready."

The lift arrived on Aaron's floor. "Can't I take him home?" Spencer asked. "I can take care of him until the graft is ready."

"I'll keep him awake today for a while longer, and you can discuss it with him."

* * *

The pentobarbital was stopped, and gradually, Aaron became aware of his surroundings again. He felt Spencer's hand in his, and heard Spencer's voice.

"Hiya, Babe." Spence said, smiling at his man.

The doctor checked the chart, and said,

"I am going to take the tube out of your throat, Aaron." Aaron nodded, and the doctor removed the tape across his lips, and slid the tube out of his throat. Aaron coughed a rasping dry cough. His throat hurt and each cough felt like blades in his larynx. He tried to speak, but his throat was too dry, all his liquid being given by drip. The doctor handed Spencer a cup and some sponge applicators.

"You can help him get used to drinking with these." the doctor said. "Just a little at first. I'll check the graft area later when he has woken up properly. We may be able to sit him up if it looks ok."

He left Spence and Aaron together. It was the first time they had been alone together while Aaron was awake. Spenser gave Aaron a little water from the sponge. Aaron sucked at it thirstily.

"Thank you." His voice was a brittle croaky sound, but to Spence it was pure magic. He wanted to jump round the ward, but instead, he leaned forwards and touched Aaron's lips.

"I really love you, Aaron."

Softly he stroked Aaron's lips with his fingers, reliving each little contour, each gentle curve that had been denied to him for so long. Shivers ran up Spencer's spine, and he saw Aaron tremble at his touch.

"Kiss me." Aaron whispered, and Spencer held Aaron's face in his hands, leaned forward, and brushed his lips on Aaron's. Aaron shuddered and sighed, his eyes welled with tears. Spencer pressed his lips to Aaron's, Aaron moaned as the kiss deepened, and Spencer moved his hand to the back of Aaron's head, gently gripping his hair.

"I love...you...Spencey..." Aaron's voice was croaky and painful. But the words were too important not to say.

Spencer held Aaron's face under his chin. "Don't speak, Babe. It hurts you too much." He pulled away and smiled at him, tracing the contours of his face with his fingers. "I want to take you home with me!"

Spencer grinned broadly at Aaron, who was trying not to laugh because it hurt too much, and failing.

* * *

Morgan watched through the window as they kissed. Then he turned and walked away.

It seemed that he could have almost any girl he wanted. Even Spencer had asked how he did it.

But he didn't want any girl. His heart wanted Spencer.

And he couldn't have him.

He thought these irrational and uncharacteristic feelings would have worn off by now. But they were still as strong as ever. He tried to remember what his feelings for Spencer had been before. He always thought of their relationship as being like brothers, he being the older, protective one. He couldn't remember ever feeling like this before.

The night before he had gone to a club, and had danced with some very pretty girls.

But all he could think of was Spence.

_Derek, get a grip, man. He's taken anyway!_

He sat in the cafeteria muttering to himself, when someone sat beside him.

"Mind if I join you Derek?"

"Dave! They let you out?"

"Only if I behave myself! No work for a week, and even then I have been told to avoid stress!"

"Then you'd better get a job in Wallmart." Morgan grinned.

"I've got these." smiled Rossi, holding out a handful of little pill bottles. "Anti-stress meds." He looked carefully at Morgan. "What about you, Derek? How are you doing?"

"Stitches out in three days. I'm fine."

"'Fine' people don't sit in the cafe muttering to themselves. I know you've got something on your mind. I'm a profiler, Derek. Now are you going to tell me? Or am I going to have to investigate and find out. Either way, I'll know."

"It's private, personal!" answered Morgan, annoyed.

"Nothing is private-personal if it affects the team. Until Hotchner is back, you're answering to me. So what's the problem?"

Morgan put his hands to his face, and rubbed his skin. "I want someone that I can't have, and I'm finding it difficult being around that person."

_There! I've said it. Oh man, I've told Rossi!_

"Ahh. I thought as much." Rossi looked at Morgan, not with scorn, which was what he expected, but with kindness. "The feelings will wear off, you know. Often after a traumatic event, one can find himself having atypical emotional reactions. But as time moves along, the feelings lessen. What you are going through is fairly normal. Don't be perturbed by it. It'll be fine."

Rossi patted Morgan on the shoulder, and walked away towards the door. Morgan sat shocked. Had that really happened?

"Hey! Dave!" Rossi turned around as he reached to door. "Have you got anyone to stay with you?"

Rossi smiled. "My sister's coming to stay. I'll be fine." He waved briefly, and left.


	23. The Welcome

Chapter 23

The Welcome

_**Thornton Wilder wrote, "**__**When you're safe at home you wish you were having an adventure; when you're having an adventure you wish you were safe at home**_"

Spencer had a list of instructions to follow so that he could take Aaron back home. Most of it was pretty straight forward, and he was looking forward to having Aaron back home again.

The nurses on the ward were sorry to see the gorgeous Agent with the burning dark eyes go home, to say nothing of his constant visitor, the cute boy with the big nose.

But –ahh – they would be back in a week or two when Aaron came in for his graft.

A group of nurses stood at the door and waved them off as Spencer helped Aaron into the car, and drove away to the airport.

A few strings had been pulled, and the two profilers had the best seats on the plane. Aaron leaned back carefully, feeling useless with both arms plastered and strapped to his body. He longed to put his arms around Spencer, to hold him close. But even Spence had to be careful holding him, the skin on his back was very delicate. He didn't want to damage it.

Spence sat by the window. Since the crash, he had felt jittery on planes, and felt better if he could see where he was going. Aaron sat by him, and leaned over, resting his head on Spencer's shoulder. He smiled with contentment, as Spence put his arm around him and absently caressed his hair.

"Not long now, Babe, and we will be home again." said Spence. Aaron turned to him and kissed his nose.

"Poor nose!" he grinned.

Spencer shuddered at the thought of all the 'nose' jokes he'd been subjected to, and surely still would, before the swelling went down. He touched it gingerly.

"It's awful, isn't it?" he said, the corners of his mouth turned down.

"I think it's lovely." said Aaron, kissing it again.

Spence tilted Aaron's face and brushed his lips teasingly. Aaron trembled. "N-not here, Sweetheart... ahhh..."

Aaron closed his eyes and allowed the shock wave to travel through his body. With his arms incapacitated, he couldn't do anything.

"I w-want to hold you, Spence..." He pushed his face forward to meet Spencer's lips and kissed him deeply. "I want to be ...ahhh..."

"Not long now, Hun." Spencer pulled away. He loved how Aaron, the straight thinking, stoic team leader became totally his at the touch of a finger. He seemed to melt at his touch. Spencer went shivery as Aaron kissed him.

"Seat belt, Sweetheart. We're landing." They had to wait until everyone else was off the plane because Aaron had to have a wheel chair. He felt ridiculous strapped into the chair, but it was one of the conditions of him being allowed home. If the skin on his back was damaged, the graft wouldn't take.

Shakily, he got into the chair, and was manhandled off the plane. With both arms incapacitated, and a bandage around his head, he certainly looked the part.

As Spence rounded the corner into the arrival lounge, a huge cheer went up. JJ and Prentiss were waving a huge banner with the words 'WELCOME BACK TO QUANTICO!', and there were balloons and streamer. Morgan, Garcia and Rossi were there, and even Erin!

Aaron would have hidden behind his hands, had they not been strapped down. As it was, he turned red with embarrassment. Spencer laughed. It was cool to be missed!

They chatted for a little while about the case. The Havers couple had been traced in sixteen ninety two. They had settled into the distant time, and had travelled west and started a new life. The other victim, the twenty seven year old girl, had become a teacher. They also told them the interesting news that Homeland Security had offered Melanie Havers (now Monreau) a substantial sum of hush money as compensation, which she had accepted.

Rossi offered to drive Spencer and Aaron home, which offer was gratefully accepted. Aaron sat in the front, Spence in the back. He leaned forward with his arms gently around Aaron's neck.

Rossi took the SUV as close as he could to their front door. He got the folded chair from the back and put it next to Aaron.

"I can walk this little bit!" Aaron said with determination, leaning on the SUV. Rossi smiled and put the chair by the front door.

"You be careful, Aaron." Rossi put his hand on Aaron's shoulder. "It's good to have you back in this century. Now hurry up and get back to the BAU."

Aaron nodded at his old friend. "It's pretty good to be back."

Spence thanked Rossi, and, with his arm carefully round his man, helped him to the door. He unlocked it and they stepped inside. It felt good to be home again. It was cool and dark in the house, and had that 'homey' smell. Spence felt that same excitement that he had felt when he first went inside the house. Their own private little castle.

He took Aaron straight up to the bedroom. The stairs weren't the huge problem he had anticipated, and he and Aaron were soon in the bedroom. With great care, Spence undressed him. Aaron rarely felt this helpless, and made a face as Spencer carefully slipped Aaron's shirt down his arms. His trousers he unzipped and they dropped to the floor. Spencer stood back and looked at him. Bandaged, beaten, his face swollen around the eyes, and his lips split, he looked beautiful to Spence.

He pulled back the quilt, and Aaron lay on his front on the crisp white sheet. Spencer covered him over and said,

"I'll make us some real coffee! It feels like ages since we had the proper stuff!"

He toddled off happily down the stairs, making for the kitchen and the espresso machine.

Aaron lay on the bed thinking about the last few days. It seemed like weeks since he had last lay here with Spence. He still couldn't quite believe it had happened, how close he had come to being executed as a witch, becoming part of his own history. Would he still have existed here? Or would this life be gone? Spencer had told him in the hospital that he was named on the Salem Witch Trial website as one of the victims.

His head had been aching before he started on this train of thought. Now he thought it might explode. He turned his thoughts to Spence and Derek who had risked everything to get him home. Then Rossi too!

He closed his eyes, thinking of all that his friends had gambled, for his life.

"Coffee!" announced Spence. Aaron was asleep. Spence put Aaron's drink on the table, sat on the bed and sipped his own.

He had thought that being here like this was never going to happen again. It they hadn't got back, Aaron would have died. It was not certain that he would live even when they had got him back.

"How could I have carried on without you, Babe?" Spence put down his mug, leaned down and kissed him. He took off his shirt and cords, and snuggled under the quilt next to him. He pressed his body into the familiar contours of Aaron's sleeping form, brushed his hair from the back of his neck and kissed him.

"I love you, My Babe. Welcome home."


End file.
